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IT, he’s worth a regiment of scouts 1 ” 

Page 182 . 


“look to the BOT! D' 



CRAG-NEST 


A Romance of the Days of Sheridan's Ride. 


By T. C DeLEON, 

Author of *^BelleSy Beaux and Brains of the '6oSy' ^^Four Years in Rebel Capitals," 
^'■John Holden, Unionist," ** Creole and Puritan,** 

*^The Puritan* s Daughter,** etc. 


It is not the deeds that men do, so much as the manner 
of their doing, that set their impress upon an era; 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

D. C. HUTCHISON and CLARENCE ROWE. 



G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


NEW YORK 



Copyright, 1897, by 
The Gossip Printing Co. 

Copyright, 1910, by 
G. W, Dillingham Company. 


Crag-Nest, 





©Hi A 35 9207 




TO 

THE MEMOBY 

OF BIT LONG AND WELL-LOVED FBIBND, 

Mrs. price WILLIAMS. Jr., 

WHO WAS THE INSPIRATION OP ALL THAT WAS BEST IN 
THE WIPE, MOTHER AND HOSTESS OP MY 

“puritan’s daughter,’* 

1 DEDICATE THIS BOOK. 





INTRODUCTION 


“SEPARATING FACT FROM FANCY” 
AS TO SHERIDAN’S RIDE 


After a late breakfast, on October ig, 1864, a ruddy, stoggy 
man might have been seen tearing down the Valley Pike on a 
great cavalry horse. 

The morning breeze from the front bore to them irregular thud 
of cannon ; the morning sun gilded the dust they spurned behind 
them to obscure — then and since — the distanced staff and guard 
in their rear. 

“ Little Phil ” and big, black Rienzi were taking that “ Sheri- 
dan’s Ride,” which has given motif for more picture, song, story 
and misstated history than any other single function of the war. 

Saying this is no tittle of disparagement to the most noted and 
successful cavalry leader of the Union side; and I have little 
doubt that the sturdy and commonsensible — if sometimes slightly 
profane — sabreur was as much amused as were many cooler think- 
ers, at the wild acclaim over a feat which dwindles to nothingness, 
beside the straining test of a Confederate scout; indeed, of more 
than one of his own couriers. 

Sheridan’s ride was great in results. It checked what, under 
proper pressing, had been an onsweeping Confederate triumph; 
it saved his army, that perchance had not needed saving, had he 
gone to it the previous night; it reinvigorated Grant and lost Lee 
his Valley granary and meat house. But as a ride, per se, it was 
a thoroughly everyday affair — equally from the strategist’s and 
the horseman’s view; not even an excuse for enthusiasts to hang 
paeans upon. 


vii 


There is romance in all wars, and the one between tjie States was 
overfull of it. Every detail of fact and fancy has been woven 
about this ride, until the careful reader flounders hopelessly be- 
tween the two. 

Almost all the history — quite all the romance — of this ride has 
come from Northern sources; a sequence quite natural, in view 
of the time of the episode and the absorption of every Southron 
in aspects of the war far different from its romance. 

Yet it ever seemed strange to me that no novel had been woven 
about Sheridan’s ride and the equally romantic, while far more 
pathetic, surroundings of its locale. And from this wonder grew 
out what Captain Charles King calls my “war-yarn,” which 
strives in some sort to show Valley life, in the swift-shifting col- 
ors lent it by war’s kaleidescope. 

Even the graphic sketches of my friend, John Estin Cooke, were 
given without pause to outline the results of the scenes he painted 
with virile and vivid brush. So it occurred to me that a romance 
of facts, and carrying with it their result — making result, as it 
were, the hero of the story — might carry more conviction than 
could either history or story, separated. So I took a typical fam- 
ily of the Valley of Virginia and made its home seat and its 
gradual decadence the feature of this tale. 

If I have drawn living men and women, they will do the task 
I set myself, for their surroundings are identical to the time and 
to the locality through which they move. 

Portraiture was not essayed, though, of course, known people 
have typed my characters. Few who knew him will fail to see 
the lion-hearted, yet courtly, old colonel of the First Virginia, in 
much of him whom a kindly critic christened “your Virginian 
Colonel Newcome.” The old Valley grande dame has had a hun- 
dred prototypes in her own State. 

Ravanel merely types the South Carolina blue blood, as Maury 
does the happy-go-lucky young trooper; but Valerie Courtenay 
and her saucy cousin were closer to the camera. A letter from 
the daughter of my “ Lion of the Valley,” written as she read the 
story, says: 

“I cannot understand how you got such a likeness. Had you 
ever heard of our terrible ride, when we were taking him from the 


viii 


battlefield, and were more afraid of a hemorrhage from the artery 
than of the Yankees, who were going from house to house near 
Manassas, making prisoners of wounded officers? From that we 
were fleeing.” And of his character she added: “The hand-to- 
hand fight you describe as Ravanel’s was very like father’s charge 
at Manassas, where he killed three men with his sword, after re- 
ceiving the bullet of each. He was so magnanimous that, one 
night when I thought him dying, and I was feeling such bitter re- 
sentment, he opened his eyes and said, as though in response to 
my thoughts : ‘ I hated to kill those brave men. How splendidly 
they stood by their guns ! ’ ” 

Perchance my particular Federal general never rode down the 
Valley 

“ With light of burning roofs, to mark his course.” 

Still it is true that such wearers of the blue were not uncommon 
— as generous foes as they were gallant soldiers. Carping crit- 
iclings have said, ere this, that my novels “ Cater to Northern 
patronage, by making his Yankees heroes.” Their shallowness 
babbled over this underlying truth : they detract frorti Southern 
heroism, who undervalue the men the South fought so long and 
so well. 

All the Cavaliers did not ride south of the Potomac ; the grand- 
est Puritan of the war had never seen Plymouth Rock. 

So much for the romance : now for the truth of history. 

In Harper’s Magazine, for July, 1897, General George A. For- 
syth, of Sheridan’s staff, printed a graphic and full retrospect of 
that day on the Valley Pike of the nineteen-mile ride; of the 
causes that led up to it, and largely of his connection with it. 
Its interest was added to by a series of large half-tone pictures, 
from special drawings. 

Strangely enough, the manuscript of this novel went to press 
exactly at the moment of General Forsyth’s paper for Harper’s. 
Still more strange was the coincidence that we both used the epi- 
sode of the dispatch from General Longstreet to General Early, 
alleged to have been taken from Confederate signal flags on old 
Three-Top Mountain, by the code which Sheridan’s deserter spies 
had carried to his lines. 


iz 


Knowing tHc long moot of this dispatch’s authenticity, I still 
had used it — as a romance. General Forsyth used it not only as 
history, but in his final and long-delayed verification of one of the 
most discussed points of contemporaneous history. 

Surprised into some doubt of my own memory of this matter — 
even while recalling General Early’s characteristic and emphatic 
denial of any such dispatch ever having existed— I wrote to Gen- 
eral Longstreet, as follows : 

“Mobile, Ala., August 17, 1897. 

“ General James Longstreet, Gainesville, Ga. : 

“My Dear General: Harper*s Magazine for July opens with an 
elaborate article on ‘ Sheridan’s Ride,’ from General George A. 
Forsyth, which he declares to be the true story of that event, as 
well as of the movements leading to it. Sickness and inability to 
use my eyes have prevented my reading this paper until now. In 
it General Forsyth reproduces the mooted dispatch, alleged to 
have been ^ taken off the rebel signal flag on Three-Top Mountain,’ 
and which reads : 

“ " Lieutenant General Early : Be ready to move as soon as my 
forces join you, and we will crush Sheridan. Longstreet, Lieu- 
tenant General.’ 

“In my latest novel,* Crag-Nest, a Romance of the Days of 
Sheridan’s Ride,’ I also use this mooted dispatch as motive for 
Sheridan’s tardy haste down the Valley pike. But, long before 
writing this story, I was aware that its authenticity had been 
denied; and, if I be not in error, by your authority. Still, for 
romance, its use was warranted, but General Forsyth’s graphic 
and readable paper — coming in peculiar coincidence with my novel 
— gives this dispatch the importance of history. I write, therefore, 
to ask whether such a message from you was signaled from Three 
Top and caught by the Federals, whose spies had stolen the code? 

** I have not General Sheridan’s Memoirs by me at this moment 
of writing, but my recollection is that he quotes the dispatch 
(which he certainly received from Wright, while at Front Royal, 
October 16, 1864, while en route to his Washington conference 
with Halleck), yet does not state definitely that it was obtained by 
stolen code. Some critics have objected to my use of the dis- 


X 


patch at all; but as I make Sheridan take his ride alone — as I 
place it several hours earlier than it occurred — and, still more, as 
I make a Confederate scout overhaul and take orders from him — 
it is plain that I was attempting historic glamor and not historic 
truth. 

“You, my dear general, know this last; and for the truth of 
history I shall be obliged by a line from you to state, first, whether 
you really sent General Early that dispatch; second, whether it 
was caught as long alleged and now repeated by General Forsyth, 
from knowledge of our signal code. I have the honor to be, 
faithfully yours, 

“T. C. DeLeon.” 

With his accustomed promptitude and in his blunt, direct way, 
the veteran Confederate corps commander sent this letter : 

“ Gainesville, Ga., August 19, 1897. 

“ T. C. DeLeon, Esq., Mobile, Ala. : 

“ My Dear DeLeon : Yours of the 17th inst., with enclosures, is 
received. 

“At the time claimed for the dispatch of Mountain Three Top 
I was in Georgia, convalescing from a severe hurt at the battle of 
the Wilderness, on the 6th of May, 1864. 

“ It is not reasonable to suppose that General Sheridan was not 
aware that I was in Georgia, as I have just stated. General Grant 
knew it, and could not have failed to advise Sheridan, if I had so 
far recovered as to return for duty. Yours very truly, 

“James Longstreet.” 

This statement should finally set at rest all doubt about the dis- 
patch. General Longstreet indubitably knows the truth, and, be- 
ing in Georgia and invalided at the time, could not possibly have 
sent it. That General Sheridan received the dispatch at Front 
Royal, covered by the one from General Wright, is plain; but 
how General Wright got it — and how they both came to be im- 
posed upon — are points that will probably never be fully cleared 
up. Sheridan’s being left in ignorance of Longstreet’s where- 
abouts by General Grant seems inexplicable. General Forsyth did 


X.I 


not toucH upon these points, accepting the dispatch as genuine. 
Indeed, his Harpe/s story is scarcely more than a personal record 
of his own individual part in the romantic and much-sung episode. 
As in duty bound, this good soldier believed in his chief, and 
probably he would have doubted “ Little Phil’s ” courage as quick- 
ly as the possibility of his being imposed upon. 

Hence, all the essential history of Sheridan’s ride — all the main 
events that preceded it — all that held him in Winchester, until 
his threatened army had been struck and shattered, and then sent 
him in regretful haste to its rescue — are to be found more fully 
in the “ Personal Memoirs of P. H. Sheridan,” Vol. IL, pp. 59-96. 

For the rest. General Forsyth has given the world graceful and 
glowing English and pleasant personal reminiscence. 

To me personally, he has further given a thrill of satisfaction, 
for his historic record of the rout of the Federals is really iden- 
tical with the one in my romance. 

But the truth of history seemed to demand some disproof — even 
though tardy — of an error that has stood on record so long as to 
have become accepted for fact. The proverbial philosophy that 
“ a lie well stuck to is as good as the truth,” the logician will con- 
cede no more than the moralist, but that frank, gallant and able 
soldiers may be imposed upon by errors “ well stuck to,” is plainly 
proved by General Forsyth’s paper. Probably no one was more 
surprised than he at the flat and final denial of General Long- 
street ; and probably no one more quickly conceded its correctness. 

So I wrote for my old friend. Editor Alex. K. McClure, a paper 
incorporating the facts and letters for his paper, the Philadelphia 
Times. This he printed under the heading used here: “Separat- 
ing Fact from Fancy.” It was much copied and commented on, 
but no one has ever essayed its denial to this day. 

But the latest historian of Sheridan’s ride must have puzzled 
his brain, much as I had done, on reading his chief’s personal 
“Memoirs” decades ago — as to how and where General Wright 
got that dispatch. 

General Sheridan’s book says (Vol. IL, pp. 62 and 63) that he 
received it at Mrs. Richards’ house, quoting it verbatim, as given 
in General Forsyth’s historic sketch and in my romance. He adds : 

“ The message from Longstreet had been taken down as it was 

xii 


being flagged from the Confederate signal station on Three-Top 
Mountain, and afterwards translated by our signal officers, who 
knew the Confederate signal code. I first thought it a ruse, and 
hardly worth attention, but on reflection deemed it best to be on 
the safe side . . . while reinforcements for the enemy might be 
near, and especially when such pregnant messages were reaching 
Early from one of the ablest of the Confederate generals.” 

Further discussing this pregnant dispatch. General Sheridan 
adds, on page 65 : 

“In consequence of the Longstreet dispatch I felt a concern 
about my absence which I could hardly repress, but after duly 
considering what Halleck said, and believing that Longstreet could 
not unite with Early before I got back,” etc. 

I have no faintest intent of criticising the acumen and tactful 
ability of the most dashing and successful of Union cavalry lead- 
ers; but it does seem probable — in view of the fact now assured, 
that General Longstreet never sent nor could have sent such a 
message — ^that either General Wright or General Sheridan was 
tricked by a ruse. The sequel seems to prove this indisputably, 
for at the very moment that Sheridan was riding away to meet 
Halleck in Washington Early was massing to strike his coup de 
grace at Cedar Run and Longstreet was in Georgia recuperating. 

General Sheridan’s book lays much stress upon his useful em- 
ployment of Confederates as spies, they playing the dual role of 
Confederate Dr. Jekyll and Union Mr. Hyde. I merely suggest 
that one of these shrewd gentry may have forged the mooted dis- 
patch — if not the entire Confederate signal code — to make himself 
more valuable to his purchaser; or, as is equally likely, the Con- 
federates may have played upon the Federal generals, as part of a 
concerted plan hatched at Confederate headquarters. General 
Sheridan says : “ I first thought it a ruse,” but reflection disabused 
his mind of that idea. That he surely counted on the delay of 
Longstreet’s junction with Early is further proved by the fact of 
his having reached Winchester from Washington about 3 p.m., 
on October i8th, and believing “that everything was all right, 
that the enemy were quiet at Fisher’s Hill, and that a brigade of 
Grover’s division was to make a reconnoissance in the morning, 
the 19th — so about 10 o’clock I went to bed greatly relieved and 


Kill 


expecting to rejoin my headquarters at my leisure next day.” 
(Memoirs, Vol. II., p. 67.) 

So assured was General Sheridan of his correctness that he 
states frankly his disbelief of any battle next morning — though 
picket officers brought news of heavy firing to his bedside, at Win- 
chester. “ I tried to go to sleep again, but grew so restless that I 
could not, and soon got up and dressed myself,” are his words on 
page 69. Later the picket officer came again, reporting still 
heavier firing, but the cavalry chief thought it was “ Grover s 
division banging away at the enemy simply to find out what he 
was up to. However, I went downstairs and requested that break- 
fast be hurried up.” (Page 70.) 

About 9 o’clock General Sheridan mounted for his historic 
and poetic ride. Had he not believed in the dispatch, had he 
known — as that other and older soldier thinks it remarkable he 
did not — of Longstreet’s absence from command, he had probably 
not slept in Winchester, but hastened on to rejoin his headquar- 
ters. In that case, poetry and picture might have lost a great 
motif, but the Union forces might not have lost a great battle. 

T. C. DeLeon. 


Mobile, Ala., Feb. — , 1910. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. In the Winter Siesta .... 9 

II. The Old Virginia Home ... 19 

III. By THE “ Daughter OP THE Stars ’ ' - - 27 

IV. A Bit op Sage Advice - - - 37 

V. Under the Strain 49 

VI. Varying Visitations .... 57 

VII. The First Quarrel - - - - • 75 

VIII. A Portrait Exchanged ... 85 

IX. From the Opequon 100 

X. Beyond the Lines - - - - 111 

XI. Home, Farewell 1 129 

XII. How Blood Told 140 

XIII. A Morning’s Misadventures - - - 152 

XIV. The Bide with Sheridan - - - 165 

XV. A Richmond ‘‘Starvation’s” Results - 183 

XVI. The Torch at Crag-Nest ... 202 


I 



ILLUSTRATIONS, 


PAGE 

** Look to the Boy ! D it, He’s Worth a Regi- 
ment OF Scouts ! ” - - - Frontispiece 182 

“ You MISTAKE, SIR. I ONLY MEAN THAT THIS IS A LaDY’S 

Room.” - 70 

'‘Thank God! You are here — not there!” - - 108 

Suddenly a Sheet of Flame Shot Close Before his 

Eyes 163 

Her Color Deepening on Neck and Bust and Arms 193 




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CRAG-NEST. 


^ %0mancB of tht gags sxf Steridan^s mUt. 


CHAPTER I. 

IN THE WINTER SIESTA. 

Those were gay and reckless days of the early 
war! 

The harsh hand of conflict had borne as yet but 
lightly upon the hearts of the people on either 
side of the Potomac; though there had been suf- 
ficient of the pomp and panoply of war to stir the 
prideful ambition of both sections. But its grim 
and ghastly realism — so well known later as to 
become an element of daily life — had not yet be- 
gun to irritate; far less to fester into hideousness. 

Manassas had told its story of crude assault 
and dogged reception; a fight — like Chevy Chase, 
“of all a summer’s day” — of green troops hurled 
against raw levies, resistless — perhaps intentless; 
of swirl, onset and blood, ending in wild rush for 
the Capital and timorous expectancy of that dread 
pursuit which never came. 

Only came rest on arms, desultory watching 


10 


CBAQNE8T. 


across the Potomac for weary months, as Manas- 
sas summer reddened into autumn; and that, in 
turn, whitened with early snows the mountain 
tops of the as yet untrampled Valley. 

The first winter of the war may be regarded 
its moral cocktail; stimulant to expectation and 
tonic to hope, as precedent to that long orgy of 
blood, happily not yet set forth upon its menu. 

In the early days of winter, a gay and thought- 
less party of younger people assembled under the 
grave matronage of Mrs. Cabbell Courtenay in 
her Valley home. Crag-Nest, time out of mind 
the manor house of the Courtenays, had ever 
swung wide its hospitable doors; its widowed 
mistress clinging to traditions of her own race, 
and basing her life-habit on the memories of a 
husband, whose practice had ever been transla- 
tion of the Arab^s wordy proffer to his guest. 

As the red glow of early sunset lingered about 
the brow of the mountain opposite, its refiection 
warmed the sloping lawn leading to the home; 
and the low, broad porch along which rapidly 
paced two young girls. Well dressed in latest 
style and fabric, these two presented, even to the 
casual glance, that marked contrast — in thought 
and manner, as well as appearance — which so 
often goes to cement girl friendships. Dark, 
ruddy and tall, Valerie Courtenay showed in 
every flash of her black eyes and every curve and 


IN THE WINTER 8IB8TA. 


11 


movement of her supple figure — in the very tread 
of her slim boot and quick movement of the 
slender, brown hand about her hairpins — the 
conscious power, will and self reliance, foreign to 
her fair companion. For Wythe Dandridge was 
shorter by a head than her cousin and chosen con- 
fidante; white, plump and soft, with peachblow 
complexion and curves suggestive of dimple in 
shoulder and elbow. Masses of soft, fair hair 
coiled low upon her neck and shaded the low brow, 
^neath which mild, blue eyes glanced furtively 
toward the gate, as the pair halted at the door of 
the sashed side porch that formed a conservatory. 

Valerie Courtenay followed the other’s glance 
with a quick flash of her dark eyes as, with a mock 
sigh, she quoted: 

‘He cometh not,’ she said, ‘I am a-weary:’ I 
wonder if he’s dead.” 

“Val!” was all Miss Dandridge replied. "How 
can you?” But the real sigh came, as the soft 
eyes again traveled to the gate. 

"How can ^e,” Val retorted demurely, "after 
^ing great oaths, that took eight portraits of 
Mr. Davis to bring them through the mails, that 
he would be here this very day. Much I fear, my 
pretty coz, that he has surrendered, rescue or no 
rescue, to that dreadful Baltimore girl; or else 
has been captured en route by the flying artillery 
belles at Winchester.” 


12 


CRAQ-NE8T. 


^^You know you don’t mean it, Val,” Wythe 
Dandridge answered gravely. “And besides, 
why should / care? You know he wrote to you, 
not to me.” 

“To me and for you,” Val answered saucily. 
“Why, my dear, I’m old enough to be his — aunt, 
if I am his cousin. I tell you, Wythe, he’s a 
deserter.” 

“I’m sure he’s detained by duty,” the other 
pleaded seriously. 

“ The true knight’s duty is to his ladye fayre;’ 
and I am sure — ” 

“Listen! — horses’ feet!” the fairer girl broke 
in, bending her little pink shell of an ear toward 
the yet faint sounds. “It must be he!” 

“Undoubtedly,” Val assented, leaning calmly 
against the pillar, “for there is no other rider in 
the Valley; and Master Kob Maury always rides 
four-in-hand.” 

“There are several horses,” the other girl an- 
swered; still listening eagerly and with height- 
ened color. “They are coming so fast. Oh! I 
hope nothing has happened!” 

“Nothing more serious I warrant,” Miss 
Courtenay answered, “than a squad bringing 
news of his being shot for desertion; or perhaps 
Master Rob is bringing in some Yankee picket 
that captured him. Don’t you think so, aunt?” 

“What a rattlebrain you are, Val,” the lady 


IN THE WINTER SIESTA. 


13 


addressed replied. She stepped from the con- 
servatory and carefully closed the sashed doors 
with firm, white, patrician hands, on which the 
lined, blue veins alone spoke of great age. Taller 
than either girl, with the grace of belleship from 
another age showing in every pose and in every 
fold of her severely made black silk gown, Mrs. 
Courtenay looked a perfect portrait of colonial 
days, just stepped from its frame. The clear, 
white skin, softened still more by hair of spun 
silver, pompadoured high back from the broad 
brow; the aquiline nose, full but firm lips and 
partly doubled chin gave singular strength to a 
face in which benevolence blended with power, 
only to be dominated at times by the steady gleam 
of steel gray eyes, undimmed by age and unyield- 
ing to the modern fad for “glasses.” Calm, self- 
reliant simplicity spoke in every line of face and 
figure and dress; its crowning the stiff and tower- 
ing back of her widow’s cap, of which the frill and 
strings hung loose behind her coronet of hair. No 
gleam of jew^el, chain or ring relieved severe sim- 
plicity of dress, save only the heavy circlet of gold 
about her wedding finger. 

“Visitors, aunt; and several of them,” Val 
said, as the clatter of hoofs grew clear and sharp 
on the hard mountain road and a party of four 
horsemen, at a rapid trot, swung round the curve 
of the hill and bore down upon the gate. 


14 


CBAG-NE8T, 


^^They are ever welcome/’ Mrs. Courtenay re- 
plied — one of her rare smiles showing even, white 
teeth, of nature’s making. ^^They are doubly so 
when they wear our uniform. But see, my chil- 
dren! That taller horseman is our cousin, Wirt.” 
And the lady of the manor moved toward the 
broad steps, as the riders clattered through the 
gate and up the path. 

“And the tall young rider behind him is our 
cousin, Rob Maury,” Val whispered to her cousin, 
as she followed her aunt. 

“And the other is Lieutenant Caskie Cullen,” 
Wythe Dandridge whispered back; a most unnec- 
essary blush tinting her soft cheek and what of 
her neck peeped above her collar. 

Erect, stern and soldierly, the elder officer rode 
up; drawing rein as he lifted his corded hat and 
gravely bent his broad shoulders; then swinging 
from saddle with the easy grace of a young horse- 
man. Over six feet of height seemed even more 
from length of sinewy limb and lank, muscular 
body; its depth of rounded chest denoting unusual 
strength. The close fitting shell- jacket and buff 
riding pants answered to play of muscle; the high 
riding boots ended in slim, high-arched feet; while 
the ungauntleted hand that raised his hat was 
firm and white, but nervous as if gripping the hilt 
of his famous sword. For few men in the Army 
of Virginia could draw that blade from scabbard 


IN’ THE WINTER SIESTA. 16 ’ 

with one sweep, so great was its keen and shining 
length. 

Every inch the cavalier looked Colonel Wirt 
Calvert, as w^ell he might with the bluest blood of 
sister states coursing through his veins. Straight 
descended through his sire from the first lords of 
Maryland, his mother^s forbears had early landed 
at Jamestown. And upon the face that fitly top- 
ped his stalwart frame, the marks of descent and 
personality were traced with equal clearness. 
The high, sloping forehead, its temples fringed 
sparsely with snow-white hair; the deep-set blue 
eyes beneath heavy gray brows; the firm-based 
nose with ample nostrils, and the long-sloped jaw 
with full, beardless chin, denoted tenacity of the 
^‘Island Mastiff,’^ tempered by high intelligence. 
But that tell-tale feature, the mouth, spoke no 
further clue to the complex machinery within; for 
the long sweep of a huge, gray mustache com- 
pletely veiled it and curved about the jaw. So, as he 
tossed his rein to the ready orderly, never moving 
the blue eyes from the ladies, as he advanced with 
bared head, Colonel Calvert seemed best exemplar 
of those ^‘Golden Horse Shoe Knights,” whom the 
Southern poet wrote: 

“The knightliest of the knightly race, 

Who, since the days of old, 

Have kept the lamp of chivalry 
Alight in hearts of gold — 


16 


CRAG-NEST. 


The kindliest of the kindly band 
Who rarely hated ease, 

Who rode with Smith around the land, 
And Raleigh round the seas! 

“Who climbed the blue Virginia hills 
Amid embattled foes, 

And planted there, in valleys fair, 

The lily and the rose — 

Whose fragrance lives in many lands, 
Whose beauty stars the earth, 

And lights the hearths of many homes 
With loveliness and worth!” 


Educated at St. Cyr, with the cadets of a noble 
French family — whose head had fought by Major 
Herbert Calvert’s side in Washington’s campaigns 
and had shared his blanket at Valley Forge — the 
son added the softer graces of Parisian manner to 
the more solid courtliness of the old school Vir- 
ginian. 

‘We were fortunate indeed, Cousin Virginia,” 
he said, with a bow a marshal of the Empire might 
have given before Josephine, “that our duty and 
pleasure unite in laying our road to your door. 
Thrice fortunate — ” he added as he raised his head, 
after touching his mustache to the extended hand 
of his kinswoman, and his keen glance rested 
kindly on the two girls — “in finding your fair 
young aides on duty.” 

And the tall head bent not so low this time, as 


ly THE WINTEM SIESTA. 


17 


the grim mustache swept lightly each fresh fore- 
head: 

^Why, my little cousins, you grow prettier 
every time we meet! But, pardon. Cousin Vir- 
ginia! You know my young friend, Maury; let 
me present Lieutenant Fraser Ravanel, of Charles- 
ton.” 

^‘You were ever welcome, sir,” the old lady said 
gently, ^‘simply as a Carolina soldier; more so as 
my kinsman’s friend. But you have a higher 
claim to command me and mine if, as I believe, 
your mother w’as Sarah Routlege, my schoolmate 
at Philadelphia. My nieces. Miss Courtenay — 
Miss Dandridge, — Mr. Ravanel.” 

Robert Maury, boyish, agile and gay, had 
thrown himself from his horse and was already 
shaking hands heartily with both girls; but Wythe 
Dandridge’s blue eyes looked beyond the young 
soldier, to open wide with surprise at the deeper 
crimson disc that jumped into Val Courtenay’s 
pleasure-flushed cheek, as her eyes meet the grave, 
gray ones of the tall Carolina cavalryman. But 
he advanced with lazy grace, taking the old lady’s 
hand courteously, as he said in his soft, seaboard 
accent: 

^^You are so good to remember her, Mrs. Courte- 
nay! I have often heard ma speak of her school- 
days; and I must compliment her by saying that 
she is as well preserved as yourself. I am 
2 


18 


CBAG-NEBT. 


charmed to meet Miss Dandridge, after hearing 
so much of her,” — he again bowed suavely; 
adding easily — ^^and Miss Courtenay and I are 
scarcely strangers.” 

^^Oh! how delightful — ” Wythe began aloud to 
Eob Maury; but the other girl broke in a trifle 
rapidly, the color still lingering in her face: 

^Wes, aunt; Mr. Eavanel and I have met at 
Judge Brockets, in Eichmond. But, Cousin Wirt, 
how does it chance that you all came this way; 
adding” — she finished with her old manner and a 
quick glance at Miss Dandridge — “so much to all 
our pleasure?” 

“Providence and the War Department,” the 
veteran answered. “I have been transferred to 
command of the — th Cavalry; and our base of 
operations will be the Valley for the present.” 

“Oh! Pm so glad!” chirped Miss Dandridge. 

“So am I,” echoed Eob Maury. 

“I may venture to join the chorus?” the Caro- 
linian said quietly. But the interrogation point 
was made by the flash of his gray eyes, as they 
met the dark ones Val Courtenay chanced to lift 
at his words. 


THE OLD VIRGINIA HOME. 


19 


CHAPTEK n. 

THE OLD VIRGINIA HOME. 

Crag-Nest loked little warlike, as the family 
and its guests sat about the old-time table, loaded 
with triumphs of the Virginian cuisine. Sturdy 
men of war — their appetites sharpened by brisk 
riding through crisp, mountain air, and their 
viands sauced by warmest welcome and charming 
companionship — charged valorous upon the ram- 
parts of fried chicken and swept resistless over 
barricades of raised biscuits. They decimated 
long ranks of brown muffins and the pig-ham 
melted as they bore down like the Guard at Water- 
loo. Amber coffee flowed free, and now— the 
main onset done — they pressed no less vigorously 
the rear-guard of airy waffies and flannel cakes, of 
which the flankers were literally ^‘flowing with 
milk and honey.’^ But in the pauses of pleasant 
conflict, the colonel had told his story, not un- 
aided by volunteer aidship of Master Eobert 
Maury, who stopped low-toned prattle with Val 
Courtenay to throw out inter jectory comment, en- 
dorsement, or approval. 

The — th Cavalry was a crack regiment of noted 
riders, with history-noted names; and its selection 
for outpost and scout duty followed the promotion 


20 


VRAG-NE8T. 


of its colonel to a western brigade. Unsought, 
and through fitness only, came Colonel Calvert’s 
transfer from infantry to the more congenial ser- 
vice; his perfect knowledge of the Valley and its 
people pointing to him as the man for that post. 

‘^My headquarters will not be far away. Cousin 
Virginia; and I need not add that you and your 
fair aides will be ever welcome on your visits of 
inspection. The regiment is marching there; but 
we spurred ahead — ” 

^^So plainly to our advantage, sir,” Rob put in, 
his mouth rather too full of waffle and honey. 
“The colonel has made me his courier. Cousin 
Val; and from now on I’ll look down from a Mc- 
Clellan tree on these poor infantry tramps.” 

“I promised your father to make a man of you, 
when he fell into my arms at Cerro Gordo, Rob,” 
the old man said with gentler voice; adding, as he 
brushed back the flowing gray mustache: “And 
I’ll do it, if you ever grow out of being a big boy!” 

“And you are with the — th Cavalry, also?” 
Mrs. Courtenay turned graciously to her stranger 
guest, who had sat quietly through the meal, tak- 
ing small part in the current of talk. 

“Temporarily, I am on special duty, ma’am,” 
he answered; adding quickly: “On detail for en- 
gineer duty. But I had no idea of being first 
ordered on such pleasant special service as this.” 

“Your mother’s son must ever be a welcome 


THE OLD VJEOINXA HOME. 


21 


guest at Crag-Nest,” the old lady replied with a 
smile. ^^Cousin Wirt puts me under compliment 
by permitting me to entertain you, even for the 
brief two days.” 

But the man^s eyes had again caught Miss 
Courtenay^s and some restraint and absence 
showed in his perfunctory: 

^Wou are too good, ma’am!” 

^^And of course you dance. Captain Ravanel?” 
Miss Dandridge exclaimed. ^Wou must; riding so 
well as you do!” Then, catching Rob’s wide stare 
fixed on her, the younger girl blushed rosily at her 
implied confession of prompt study of the stran- 
ger’s points, as she corrected herself: — ^^As Mr. 
Maury says you do.” 

^^Did I say that?” Rob blurted out, boy fashion. 

don’t remember it, but it’s true though. I’m 
no bad horseman myself, but I reckon Mr. Ravanel 
can give me points.” 

have been riding longer than he has. Miss 
Dandridge,” Ravanel said with a smile that 
showed white teeth under his drooping mustache 
— ^Wou ride, of course?” 

“Oh! I dote on it,” the girl cried naively; “but 
I don’t ride like Val — ” 

“I have been riding longer than she has,” Miss 
Courtenay finished for her. And again her eyes 
met the man’s; this time not dropping under them, 
though the color deepened in her oval cheeks. 


22 


CRAO^NEST, 


^^1 am glad you do,” he continued quietly to 
Wythe; not even answering her cousin^s look. 
have a very clever, well-gaited mare with the 
wagons, and I hope you will permit me to offer 
her and myself for your service. Miss Dandridge.” 

‘‘Aunt Virginia is very careful about Miss 
Wythe’s mounts,” Rob Maury put in abruptly — 
“Your mare is a little fresh sometimes, Mr. 
Ravanel.” 

“All young animals are apt to be, on occasion,” 
the Carolinian responded quietly. “But, like her 
master, Santee yields naturally to feminine hand. 
You will permit me” — he turned courteously to 
his hostess — “when I have become less of a stran- 
ger?” 

“But you haven’t answered if you dance,” 
Wythe persisted, “and I’m just sure you do!” 

The man’s eyes, absently gazing through the 
wide window on the crescent moon just cresting 
the distant mountain, never changed as he an- 
swered half to himself: 

“I used to — it seems so long ago!” 

And the far away look deepened in the eyes 
that, had he turned them, might have seen Val 
Courtenay’s as well travel to the distant mountain 
top, while the same far away look deepened in 
them and her aunt spoke twice ere she recalled 
herself with a little start. 

“I beg pardon, aunt. Yes, Cousin Wirt, it will 


THE OLD VIRGINIA HOME 


be delightful; and the War Department builded 
wiser than it knew when it sent us protectors, 
partners, horses and proffers of picnics, all in one.’^ 

‘‘We should celebrate their advent,” Wythe 
Dandridge cried with a merry laugh. 

“And so you shall, my dears,” Mrs. Courtenay 
assented cheerily. “As soon as the — th regiment 
pitches its tents you shall have a dance of wel- 
come” — she bowed gravely to the colonel — “if its 
commander permits.” 

“On one condition solely” — the veteran an- 
swered — “that my kinswoman walks the polonaise 
with me. Jove! I have not danced one since that 
night in Paris when the Marquis feted the Russian 
Crown Princess. I was a slim youth then. Cousin 
Virginia,” — he went on, waxing reminiscent — 
“but I remember my lavender silk stockings and 
silver buckles; and how Madame la Marquise 
honored the young American by giving him her 
hand.” 

“Was she pretty, sir?” Rob Maury queried with 
his now empty mouth half open, as if to gulp in 
the answer. 

“She was a grand lady, sir, with the blood of 
princes in her veins,” the colonel responded with 
slight frown; but turning to his kinswoman: “A 
great man, the Marquis, Cousin Virginia, in peace 
as in war. Jove! it was he first taught my father 
the true secret of filet de truite, a la sauce TartareP^ 


24 


CRAG-NE8T, 


And the veteran pronounced the last word with a 
fatness of rolled r’s and an Epicurean gurgle that 
would have made Brillat Savarin proud to hear. 
‘^Those were rare days, when I hobnobbed with 
royal descendants!” 

“It was your right of birth, Cousin Wirt,” the 
old lady said mildly, but raising her full chin 
proudly. “The blood of the Calverts and Cabbells 
is the peer of any king^s! So, as a daughter of 
their house, I accept my kinsman’s invitation and 
will succeed Madame la Marquise in the polonaise. 
— But I am forgetting, my kinsman, that all our 
guests have ridden hard to-day.” She rose from 
her seat, bowing courteously to all in signal. 
“Ezekiel! The gentlemen’s candles! — Good-night 
and pleasant dreams to all. As we are not on 
duty, we will breakfast at eight.” 

The statue of shining ebony standing by the 
ponderous, carved sideboard and reflecting in its 
polished silverware vast wealth of shirt front and 
standing collar above his blue dress coat, waved 
stately right hand to the door and swayed his long 
back with haughty bend, as he proclaimed: 

“Da gennelmun’s can’ls am served!” 

The two girls stood a moment silent, after the 
matron’s gentle good-night kiss upon their fore- 
heads; Val Courtenay’s eyes fixed steadily upon 
the now high-riding moon, her companion’s star- 
ing straight ahead at nothing, as the blood stole 


THE OLD VIRGINIA HOME. 


26 


redder to her cheek. Then she woke with a little 
sigh and exclaimed: 

^^Oh! Val, isn^t he nice?” 

Miss Courtenay came back slowly from the 
mountain top, as she answered rather wearily: 

^^Oh, yes, he’s a nice enough boy — ” 

^^Boy! Why Val, he must be thirty if he’s a 
day! And so you have met him before?” 

‘^Oh! I thought you referred to my cousin,” 
the other girl answered quietly. “Yes, I met Mr. 
Eavanel in Eichmond — casually — when I staid 
with Coulter Brooke.” 

“You didn’t like him much,” Wythe persisted 
naively. “You didn’t seem a bit glad to see him.” 

“You did; and plainly told him so,” the elder 
girl answered rather tartly. “No, don’t pout, 
dear; but you know I never gush over” — she hesi- 
tated a moment, then slowly dropped the words — 
“men I don’t know. But it will be very nice to 
have Eob so near, and useful as a walking stick 
and riding beau.” 

“Yes, Eob is very nice,” Miss Dandridge re- 
plied, again looking across the room at nothing. 
“But one might wish that he had a little more 
style.” 

“There are better things than style, Wythe,” 
Val answered seriously; some surprise creeping 
into the eyes she fixed upon her cousin. “Eob 
Maury is a gentleman in birth and in heart. When 


26 


CRAG-imST. 


you have been in society as long as I have, you will 
learn that these are born, and unlike style, can 
not be made. But come, dear, we’re to breakfast 
at eight and ^da ladies can’ls am served,’” She 
passed her arm gently around the fair, plump 
shoulders and bending down pressed a genuine 
kiss upon the pouting lips. Then the girls lit the 
tapers in the grand old silver sticks on the side- 
board and softly passed up the broad, oak stair- 
way to the upper hall, across which came, in regu- 
lar volleys, sounds most unlike that of 

“The horns of elfland faintly blowing,” 

suggesting that Colonel Wirt Calvert might be 
dreaming of too much filet de truite a la same Tar- 
tare* 


BY THE **DAmHTEE OF THE 8TAE&'* 


27 


CHAPTEE ITL 

BY THE DAUGHTER OF THE STABS.” 

The regiment had arrived, gone into comfort- 
able winter quarters and settled down to routine 
of camp duty. But two days had been needed for 
its officers to learn the road to Crag-Nest, where 
senior and sub alike shared the boundless hospi- 
tality of the lady of the manor, and the latter 
especially had been welcomed warmly by the 
young girls. Already there had been a riding 
party to the river; Miss Dandridge mounted on 
^^Santee,” with her master as attendant cavalier, 
while Val Courtenay rode her own fiery chestnut 
beside Master Robert Maury’s eager and restless 
bay. 

The always bright-tempered girl had been in 
unusual flow of spirits these two days; caused, as 
Wythe hinte(i to her, by nearness of new scalps, 
possible of affixment to her slim girdle; and on 
this ride she grew almost reckless. Gully and 
stream seemed nothing to her mettlesome horse; 
and more than once she turned out of the road to 
put him at a fence stiff enough to test the best 
powers of her escort’s mount. And after one of 


28 


OBAO»NEST. 


these, as they galloped in chase of the pair ahead, 
the boy suddenly said: 

“Odd, Cousin Val; but you don^t seem to like 
him. — And women always do, too!” 

“So I have — ” the girl checked the involun- 
tary exclamation; nodding toward the couple 
ahead, as she finished with a laugh — “begun to 
imagine, Eob. You must watch your ‘Lily maid’ 
or she will be broidering stranger Launcelot’s 
shield, ere he rides away.” 

“Pshaw! You don’t mean it. Cousin Val!” the 
boy blurted out, as a hot flush crossed his face. 
“She doesn’t come of a kind that are won without 
wooing — ” 

“As you know. Sir Laggard!” she broke in 
merrily. 

“And the man’s a perfect stranger,” he went on 
glumly. “But he’s a deuced handsome and dash- 
ing one, too; and he’s such a perfect gentleman!” 

“Is he?” For a second the girl’s dark eyes lost 
their merry gleam ; a bitter ring in her voice. Then 
her laugh chimed out again, as she added : 

“And he’s so fond of his — ‘ma’!” 

“Yes, he is,” Master Rob assented loyally. 
“Yow don’t think less of him for devotion to his 
family, Cousin Val? And it’s a good one, too. 
I’m not much gone on Mr. Ravanel, for he’s too 
cold and proud to suit my book, and he thinks 
privates no better than rice-field niggers. But he’s 


BY THE •^DA UGHTER OF THE STARS.*' 29 

a man and a brave one, and a good soldier for all 
that. By Jove! how he rides!” 

The officer’s black, chafing and lurching side- 
ways under the strong bridle hand, suddenly 
snorted and reared almost upright. But the 
quick feet left the stirrups, the knees gripped the 
saddle closer and the man threw his weight for- 
w^ard, as the corded neck went straight up. And 
with the one motion the heavy gauntlet in the 
bare right hand crashed down between the horse’s 
ears. Even as the blow fell, the clear soft-toned 
voice said, with the same drawing-room accent; 

^Tull to the left, Miss Dandridge! Santee may 
fret.” 

The black was down again; chafing under 
punishment of the spur, but obedient to the seem- 
ing light hand on the curb; and Wythe Dandridge, 
her glowing cheeks and frank eyes speaking ad- 
miration, loosened the mare’s head and bowled 
along confidently by her escort. Profile, pose and 
rapid speech, unheard across distance, told plainly 
that she was complimenting him, and again the 
older girl’s eyes darkened strangely, and the line 
of her full lips grew straighter from their pressure 
together. Then she answered lightly: 

very Lochinvar, come out of the South! 

Beware, Master Laggard, lest he mount our ^fair 
Ellen’ upon his horse’s croup and ride away from 
us all!” 


30 


CRAO-mam 


She gave the chestnut his head and sped away 
after the others to the turn of the road that showed 
the Shenandoah just ahead. High beyond, the 
Massanutten reared his towering forehead; haloed 
now by golden reflection from the sunset; while 
trending southward the lower crests of Three Top 
mountain began to lose their profiles in the even- 
ing shadow. Just at their feet the ^^Daughter of 
the Stars” * bared her broad, smooth bosom to 
the reflected glow, as though ready for the coming 
gleam of her myriad-eyed mother. 

The quartette drew rein, descending to the 
bank; V al Courtenay^s eyes bent steadily upon the 
fast rippling stream; her escort’s fixed furtively 
upon the fair, flushed face of the other girl. Grad- 
ually the restless mare moved upward along the 
bank, and gradually — obeying imperceptible turn 
of Maury’s wrist — the restless bay kept even pace 
with her. But, as he sat statue-like in his saddle, 
Bavanel’s gaze followed Miss Courtenay’s toward 
the stream, whether or not it went beyond herself. 
Suddenly and with a half start, Val came back to 
the present; her eyes turned toward her missing 
cousins, who had disappeared around the turn of 
the bank — then resting in surprise upon her sole 
companion. He too came back to himself; and, all 
society man at once, he moved the black up abreast 
the chestnut. 


Literal translation of the Indian name, Shenandoah. 


BY THE ** DAUGHTER OF THE STAB8.'>^ 


81 


fear it has seemed a little like intrusion, Miss 
Courtenay;” he said quietly, raising his hat, ‘^but 
my presence under your roof was the fault of cir- 
cumstances rather than myself.” 

^^As my aunCs guest,” she replied coldly — all 
her interest again seeming to center on the river — 
have no possible right to criticise. As her kins- 
man’s friend, you were doubtless entirely wel- 
come” — there was almost imperceptible pause ere 
she finished — ^^to her.” 

think I have the right,” the man said gravely, 
ignoring her equivoke, ^^to ask one question. What 
was your ground for deciding that we should be 
strangers?” 

^Was it not sufficient that I so decided?” was 
the girl’s answer calmly given. 

^^No! Assuredly not,” he retorted earnestly but 
quietly. ‘^Even the law grants the accused the 
right to hear the charge against him and to plead 
in his own defense. When a man is condemned 

unheard by the lady who has said ” 

‘What she prefers not to remember, her wish 

should be the only law to ,” again she made the 

least perceptible pause — “the gentleman.” 

Fraser Ravanel looked steadily at the half 
averted face while he might have counted thirty; 
no perceptible change showing itself on his own. 
Then he said in low, even voice: 

“I have always thought myself a man — I have 


32 


CRAG^NEST. 


believed you a woman, Valerie Courtenay. So I 
speak to you now; not as society gentleman to lady. 
When we parted that night in Richmond; when I 
had asked for, and you had granted a pledge 

^Which I have said I would forget,’^ she broke 
in, her voice quivering, her eyes darkening upon 
the river. 

Which you had taught me to expect; and 

to which I claim I have forfeited no right,” he 
went on, ignoring the interruption, was cast 
aside as a used glove; my letters first unanswered, 
then returned unopened! Should not justice, if 
not courtesy, grant me an explanation?” 

^‘To what avail?” she queried, her face still 
averted ; the bosom of her close fitting habit rising 
and falling rapidly. 

^^That I may clear myself of unjust suspicion,” 
the man answered firmly. ^When one who has 
ever kept faith with man and woman gives his 
solemn pledge ” 

“He should keep it for at least an hour, Mr. 
Ravanel!” Her face turned full to him; her eyes 
steadily meeting his that never fell before their 
searching accusation, although some wonderment 
rose into them. 

“I am waiting.” His voice was not raised or 
changed. “Please go on; you can not deny my 
right to be curious, now.” 

“STou can not deny my right to act as I did,” 


BY THE DAUGHTER OF THE STARS » 38 

she answered rapidly, you have memory enough 
to recall that night at the station.” 

recall every instant of it,” he said very gently ; 
‘‘how you looked and spoke at the ball; how you 
were good enough to dance but once; how I pledged 
my word never to dance again, until I might with 
you; how we left the crowded room for the con- 
servatory; how I there spoke words that ” 

“Had far better been left unsaid.” She sat 
erect in saddle; her cheeks burning, with her eyes 
still fixed bravely on his. 

“Perhaps,” he answered low but firmly; “but I 
must first ask you to prove that, as far as I am 
concerned.” 

“What need?” she answered more hotly; the 
swell of her bosom more rapid. “I retained my 
eyesight that night, even if you lost your memory. 
But w^e are in the mountains, and we are playing 
at society. Let us end the comedy and rejoin my 
cousins.” 

As she spoke she turned her horse’s head 
quickly; but with equal swiftness the black barred 
her way. 

“One moment first,” the man said gravely. “It 
is no comedy to me; nor are the scenes of my mak- 
ing. But you, Valerie Courtenay, were the first 
woman to whom I ever spoke serious word of love; 
you make yourself the first lady whose command 
I have disobeyed. No man of my race has ever 
a 


84 


CBAG-NEST. 


proved disloyal to his plighted word. I were dis- 
loyal to them and to myself, did I not demand 
something more definite than this merely hinted 
charged 

The girPs lip curled and her voice was hard 
that scoffed: 

^^Really, sir, you are a better actor than I had 
suspected.” 

“Possibly,” he answered quietly, but more 
rapidly, “for I feel as I act. I am no child; you no 
woman to speak lightly such words as you once 
said to me. Why should we throw away what 
might be precious to us both, when a single word 
from you might clear up a hideous mistake that 
comes between us? Valerie! Through all these 
many months; through silence, even contempt, I 
have never doubted you. No! do not speak! Had 
I, my self respect had never let me allude to the 
past, far less plead for the future, as I do now.” 

Once more the girFs eyes fell before his earnest 
gaze, resting on — if not seeing — the far rolling 
river. Once more the rapid movement of her 
bosom spoke the hot tumult within; but the full 
lips pressed firmly together, and the clinch of her 
hand upon the rein bore her spirited horse some 
paces backward. But she spoke no word; and 
again the man — low and rapidly, and with some- 
thing like pity in his voice—said: 

“Do not be afraid to speak ! Anything is better 


BY THE DAUGHTER OF THE STARS » 86 

than this silence; anything more just to me and to 
— yourself!” 

^What need?” the voice was scarcely hers in 
its tremulous hardness; ^^you must remember that 
night!” 

have told you I do,” he answered. ‘When 
you left the ball room, I said I would see you at 
the train. There I slipped the rosebud into the 
little hand that spoke farewell so loyally; the 
train that bore you from me moved rapidly away, 
but left me full of joy and hope.” 

The girPs lips quivered as she still looked at the 
river. Two deep red spots rose to her cheeks and 
something like a sob seemed to rise into her throat; 
but she bravely conquered herself, saying only: 

“Was that all?” 

“That was all,” he answered firmly, “save that 
you went from me, either to sport with, or 
strangely to misjudge me. If I speak falsely, by 
your truth to your own womanhood, I demand that 
you prove it!” 

A changed woman turned in that saddle; her 
form erected and her glowing eyes fixed upon his 
with glance as proud and stern as his own. The 
red had gone from her face, but left it firm as 
pale, as with steady voice she answered: 

“I have sought, honestly, to avoid this expla- 
nation and yourself equally. You taunt me with 
injustice; and demand, by my honor and seif 


CRAG-NEST. 


SG 

respect, the brutality of words! Very well; you 
shall have them. That train you saw whirl me 
away, soon backed swiftly into the depot, opposite. 
Prom its window, a chance glance showed me an 
incoming train. From it stepped a — lady. A 
gentleman scanning the train approached eagerly. 
There was surprised recognition — joyous greeting. 
An instant, and her head was on his shoulder — 
his arms about her!’^ 

Pale, with compressed lips and brows con- 
tracted, over eyes that gleamed back almost 
fiercely into hers, Fraser Ravanel sat motionless 
in his saddle, with never a word of reply. So, for 
what might have been many seconds. Then the 
man, all himself once more, backed his horse from 
her path as he lifted his hat with graceful sweep 
and said in his soft, drawing-room voice: 

^^We will hunt for your cousins. Miss Courte- 
nay.” 


A BIT OF SAQE ADYIOE, 


37 


CHAPTER IV. 

A BIT OF SAGE ADVICE. 

The ball to welcome its new military neighbors 
was in mid revel at Crag-Nest. The house had 
been so arranged as to give the most space possible 
to the dancers; tightly drawn tent flies, draped 
with borrowed flags, enclosed the wide verandah 
and formed a cosy supper room, where a buffet, 
amply filled with solids and sweets, and majes- 
tically presided over by Ezekiel, in even more 
ample show of linen, tempted old and young in in- 
tervals of talk or dance. The glassed conserva- 
tory — Mrs. Courtenay ^s pride and solace, in those 
intervals when her hospitality took vacation from 
very lack of material on which to lavish it — opened 
inviting doors upon this improvised supper room ; 
and its cool walks, bordered with tall, tubbed gar- 
den plants and some rare exotics, lit by softened 
gleam of swinging lamps, enticed more than 
one waltz-wearied couple to seductive seats in 
shadowed corners. 

Colonel Calvert had walked “the opening 
polonaise’^ of the with his stately kinswoman; 
her severe black costume relieved for the occasion 
by soft falls of rare old lace, unique of design and 
time-shaded from amber to rich coffee color. And 


CRAQ^NmT. 


«8 

a gracious pair they showed, those relics of the 
good old times; merry, calm and grand, through 
their rhythmic walk, with best adherence to time 
permissible under coercion of an improvised or* 
chestra — two fiddles, fiute and guitar. Grave, 
watchful and yet with nearer approach to tremor 
than ever hostile charge had brought him, the 
colonel led the dance; his step measured, his head 
erect above the deep, infiated chest; and his bows 
perfection. And his partner's pace was measured 
stateliness, equal to his own; serene pleasure 
seated upon her strongly marked features, now 
softly fiushed with pleasurable thought of joy to 
others at her bidding. Then — the polonaise com- 
pleted and the lancers danced, “just to break the 
ice, you know,^^ as Bob Maury explained — the 
negro fiddlers struck up a rattling waltz and eager 
beaux sought no unwilling partners. Gray shell- 
jackets, orange trimmed and yet unsmirched with 
powder and camp smoke, contrasted prettily with 
soft dresses of the girls; for, so early in the war no 
scarcity was felt, even in matter of dress, and the 
guests embraced the whole higher population of 
the lower Valley accessible to call. Fair faces and 
graceful forms showed on every hand; the varying 
types proclaiming descent from many a different 
stock; but — brunette or blonde, matron or maid — 
each woman present showed the ease of access to 
“the best society/^ and the nameless charm of 


A BIT OF BAGE ADVICE. 


39 


gentle breeding gave a tone to the whole affair, too 
often missing in more ambitious congregations of 
some great city^s ^deaders/’ Nor were the men 
lacking in that courtliness and deference to sex, 
typical of old Virginian days. The undecorated 
jacket of the beardless youth, the star-decked coat 
of the chevroned officer, alike covered the best 
blood of the Old Dominion; for the — th Cavalry 
was truly a corps d’elitc^ and sire and son of that 
day made practical the idea of the German poet: 

Honor to woman! To her it is given 

To garland the earth with the roses of heaven! 

Waltz, quadrille and lancers had succeeded 
each other, soft speech from bearded lips had 
brought the pleasure-flush to delicate cheeks; 
and already the polished, bald forehead of Eze- 
kiel and his household staff gleamed with shinier 
ebon, from the moisture of grateful exercise. But 
^^the labor we delight in physics pain;’’ and the 
butler of Crag-Nest grew less stately — indeed al- 
most condescended to graciousness — under con- 
sciousness of pleasure-giving, as viceroy of that 
house’s head. 

‘^One shabin’ ov da ham, Morse Wirt!” he plead, 
holding back the plate for which the veteran ex- 
tended his hand. “Miss ’Ginia raised da pig, sah; 
an’ I’be seed to de curin’ mysef! Jess a shabin’, 
sah; ter gib da ellerment fur da bone-tukkey.” 


40 


CBAO-ITEBT. 


A dexterous twist of the slim, keen carver curled 
the rich, red meat across its back as the negro 
spoke; and he extended the plate with a bow in 
which grandeur and gratified pride bore equal 
part. 

^‘Yes, Cousin Virginia,’^ the colonel went on— 
not forgetting his grave bow of acknowledgment 
as he took the plate, “I repeat that no home in the 
Valley — I might add, in all our state — can equal 
Crag-Nest for its combination of home-comfort, 
old-school courtliness and generosity of welcome. 
Why, were poor Courtenay looking down upon us 
now, even that prince of entertainers could ask 
no addition to this scene. It makes me young 
again! It makes me prouder of my boys, to see 
that they need as little disciplining for the parlor 
as they do for the field. Jove! I would not scruple 
to order a chance detail from the — th to fall out, 
and carry them to a soiree at the Marquis’ palace, 
without a word of warning!” 

^‘You are right, kinsman,” the hostess replied 
with a half sigh. ^^I have heard slurs upon us for 
our state-love and for our assumed superiority. 
But is it assumed, or actual? Look over these 
youths — boys, some of them; and tell me if the 
mothers of any state send more precious ^food for 
powder’, or send more bravely and willingly, for 
duty’s sake!” 

‘‘None!” he answered sonorously, with swift 


A BIT OF SAGE ADVICE. 


41 


sweep aside of his mustache. this home- 

brewed punch I drink to these mothers of noble 
sons. Scoffers call our state the mother of presi- 
dents. Jove! they will learn to respect her as the 
mother of soldiers!” 

A gleam of sadness swept across the matron’s 
face, glowing responsive to his words, as she an- 
swered : 

^‘Kever before have I so regretted, cousin, that 
there was no heir to Crag-Nest! And yet, what 
horrid gaps this war may make in all Virginia 
homes. Think of the mourning left from Ma- 
nassas!” 

^^Dulce €t decorum the soldier quoted gravely, 
setting down his emptied glass, not without a little 
smack of the mustache-hidden lips. “Bellona is 
the twin of sireless Mors, Cousin Virginia. Revo- 
lutions are not made with rose water; and this 
one is against a race akin to us; as staunch and 
stubborn as ourselves — although we have the 
right to fight for. Some of these youngsters will 
drop out of our ranks — many a one will leave his 
legacy of sorrow and tears behind; but each will 
leave also his legacy of glory for his own name, and 
of incentive to his comrades who remain! They 
are a splendid set of fellows! Jove! I do not be- 
lieve any Washington soiree could equal their 
natural ease and elegance. My old comrades at 
St. Cyr had equal outside polish; they never 


42 


CRAG-NE8T. 


equaled those inner graces of head and heart, 
born with these boys of mine!” 

^‘There is the most distingue man present,” Mrs. 
Courtenay answered; adding with half regret, half 
wonder: — ^^And he is not a Virginian.” 

^^He is first cousin to it,” her kinsman replied, 
with a thoughtful twist of his mustache tips. 
‘^South Carolina is most like us, of all the Con- 
federacy; only she is a trifie hide-bound and be- 
lieves no state equal to her. A good fault for a 
soldier-producing country, cousin. And, besides, 
Fraser Eavanel was educated in France, at U Ecole 
PolytechniqueJ^ 

‘^And he seems to admire Wythe very much,” 
the lady retorted, more gravely than relevantly. 

‘‘Jove! I should order a court of inquiry on 
him if he did not,” the veteran answered with a 
smile. “And now, Ezekiel, just another scrap of 
that chicken-salad and a shaving of ham !” 

“Oh! Cousin Wirt, isn’t this just too nice a 
dance?” Wythe Dandridge cried as she came up 
radiant, fiushed and leaning on Mr. RavanePs gold- 
embellished sleeve. “But I must have some 
lemonade. Give me a glass. Uncle Ziek; quick, for 
I’m so thirsty.” 

“Try this punch, my dear,” the colonel an- 
swered, handing her a brimming glass. “Lemon, 
rum, tea, cognac and champagne; the very Regent’s 
receipt the Marquis gave my father, the year I was 


A BIT OF BAGS ADVICE. 


43 


born!’^ And Sir Charles Grandison had made no 
grander bow than that the veteran bent over the 
thin glass proffered to the young girl. 

‘‘Your home is perfection, for entertaining, Mrs 
Courtenay,” Eavanel said easily. “Ma is very 
proud of her wide rooms, overlooking the Battery, 
with Charleston harbor stretching away to the 
ocean. But, to us from the lowlands, the grand 
old mountains out there are even grander; and this 
glorious air is a real tonic.” 

“I rejoice that you like the Valley, sir,” the old 
lady replied half absently; “but I remember how 
lonely your mother must be, in her seaside home, 
if you are her only child.” 

For an instant only, the man stood mute; then, 
flushing hotly, he answered rapidly: 

“Yes, ma’am; I am my mother’s only child!” 

And Val Courtenay, leaning upon a burly 
major’s arm, passed near enough to catch the 
words, and answer rather at random to her escort’s 
glowing compliment, as her aunt waved her fan 
with old school grace as accent to her words: 

“And I can realize how justly proud she must 
be of you, sir.” 

But the girl’s face grew dark and stern, and 
her eyes — dropped on the floor — had an evil gleam 
in them, as the old lady’s praise fell upon her ear. 
And the blood surged tingling toward her brain, 
as the bright supper room changed for her to a 


44 


CRAQ-NE8T. 


dingy, smoke filled railway station; and memory’s 
camera held up the bold negative of a pale faced 
girl, crushing a white rose in her clinched hand, 
as she saw a tall, graceful man bend his head and 
press the lips of the eager-seeming woman clasped 
in his arms! And, as she raised her eyes, Val 
Courtenay felt that man’s full upon them; while 
Wythe Dandridge, refreshed by the colonel’s pre- 
scription, cried to her: 

^^Oh! Val, isnH it too nice? And Mr. Ravanel 
declares he doesn’t dance well! You know if he 
used to; and I’m sure he must!” 

Herself in a moment, the older girl slammed 
memory’s camera close shut; the man before her 
was an every day acquaintance at once, and her 
voice wholly indifferent as she answered: 

believe Mr. Ravanel was considered the best 
dancer in Richmond.” 

^‘Which reminds me that I should claim you 
quickly. Miss Dandridge, before his prowess cap- 
tures my waltz with you,” the burly major broke 
in. And next instant the young girl — her hand 
slipped into the speaker’s arm, as she moved to- 
ward the dancing room — turned a glowing face 
over her shoulder and cried: 

“Oh, Val! make him dance again, then! You 
can have the second from this, Mr. Ravanel.” 

Only the four stood near the buffet; the colonel 
and the hostess facing them; Val Courtenay and 


A BIT OF SAOE ADVICE. 


45 


her dismissed lover facing each other with perfect 
nonchalance in seeming, but wary watch in either^s 
eyes, as in the trained fencer’s. A second’s 
silence; then Ravanel’s voice fell soft and low upon 
the girl’s ear: 

were indeed recreant knight did I refuse to 
lift that gage. Miss Courtenay,” he said. ^^Will 
you risk my want of practice, and dance with 
me?” 

Never hesitating one instant, but with closer 
pressure of her lips and slight paling of her exer- 
cise-flushed cheeks, Val Courtenay answered 
sloTvly: 

“I do not fear your — want of practice, Mr. 
Ravanel.” 

‘‘And you will dance?” he cried more eagerly. 

‘‘I am under my own roof; you are my aunt’s 
guest,” she replied, so low that only the man 
caught the words, as she turned from the others 
and let her fingers barely touch the arm he 
had proffered as eagerly as he spoke. “As her 
representative, 1 should regret an ungracious act, 
even did inclination prompt it.” 

He halted an instant. Then his lips set tight 
under their drooping black fringe, and he moved 
on again toward the music. Neither spoke word 
more as his arm passed about her slim waist and 
the pair glided out amid the dancers. One brief turn, 
and the burly major swung Wythe full against the 


46 


CRAO-NEST. 


graceful moving pair; even the Carolinian^s strong 
arm and dexterous guidance Vailing to avert col- 
lision. But as they recovered poise, Val Courte- 
nay stood free of his encircling arm, smiling 
quietly at the major^s warm excuses; while Wythe, 
her eyes dancing and her cheeks aglow, was crying: 

‘•Oh! aren^t you ashamed, Mr. Ravanel? You 
do dance as well as you ride!^’ 

“That’s saying a great deal. Miss Wythe!” Rob 
Maury puffed out, as he ran up mopping his brow. 
“May I have a turn?” 

But Wythe’s blue eyes were still upon the other 
man’s and, his making the query suggested by his 
words, he answered for her: 

“I believe Miss Dandridge promised me.” 

Only a nod at Rob was her reply; her hand 
upon the Carolinian’s shoulder and her little feet 
flying in time to those of the best partner she had 
ever met. And Val Courtenay’s eyes moved from 
the fair, joyous face to the dark, stern-set one, with 
the pity in them changing to angry contempt as 
she caught his almost whisper: 

“/ have kept my pledge!” 

“And may I hope. Miss Courtenay — ,” the 
major began. But Val — coming back to society 
in view of impending martyrdom — smiled sweetly 
on him as she put her hand on Rob Maury’s 
shoulder, saying: 

“So sorry; but I promised my cousin!” 


A BIT OF SAGE ADVICE. 


47 


^^That fellow, Ravanel, does everything well!’^ 
Rob puffed, as he dodged unskillful dancers. “By 
jingo, cousin, you and he moved as if you were 
made for each other 

The girPs feet were suddenly still; her slim 
hand slid into the boy^s arm, and she said rather 
wearily: 

“It is so warm! Let us go on the piazza a 
moment.” 

The violins still scraped merrily to twang of 
the guitars, a half hour later; but mortal feet are 
not really winged, even in youth, and at last Wythe 
Dandridge wearied in the flesh — whatever she 
might have done in spirit — of her new found part- 
ner. Eager and flushed, she was listening naively 
to the pleasant sound of his low-voiced narration, 
as they strolled through the supper room, past the 
wide doors of the conservatory and down the 
narrow walk between the tubs. The place seemed 
deserted; their slow-moving feet making no sound 
upon the plank. Suddenly, just at its turn, voices 
fell clear and sharp through the scented air. A 
woman’s was saying, rather wearily: 

“Love is ever but a chance. One should be 
very sure before confessing; doubly so, before pro- 
clainaing it! And you are so young.” 

The Carolinian halted, quickly as at command; 
his face grave and stern, as his glance swept 
rapidly his companion’s. Its flush had gone; a 


48 


CRAONEBT. 


wondering query rising in its place; but ere he 
could turn, the man’s rapid answer came: 

^^Young! Love like mine is born old! You 
know it has lived for years! You know how deep 
and true and honest it is! You must understand 
me! — And I tell you, I must have an answer! I 
must know if he is in my way! I tell you I begin 
to hate — Ravanel!” 

Wythe Dandridge’s eyes, wide appealing out 
of her now ashen face, met those of the man be- 
side her. They were glinting with an ugly light; 
his lips drawn in and his cheek as pale as her own. 
But he faced quickly for the door, bending his head 
as he whispered shortly: 

“Come! We are de trop here!” 

And the girl, resting heavily on his arm, fol- 
lowed his stronger will mechanically as a low, 
mocking laugh and well-known voice followed 
them: 

“Nonsense! You will learn that I am your 
truest friend! Love is a delusion, Rob. I know, 
for I am old enough to be your — aunt!” 


UNDER THE STRAIN. 


49 


CHAPTER Y. 

UNDER THE STRAIN. 

Almost two years had passed since Mrs. Courte- 
nay ^s ball for the — th Cavalry; years of which the 
weeks made history so fast, that not even the worst 
sufferers by its making could count its mile-stones 
in swift rush by them. Seven Pines and Seven 
Days had told their tales of strategy and blood 
and constancy. Riddled Fredericksburg now sat 
widowed, amid her desolated fields. Twice had 
the ^^bare-footed boys” crossed the historic river 
and marched almost greedily to the feast of death 
awaiting them on Northern soil; twice had they 
marched back from carnage that, typing the hero- 
ism of both sides to it, was yet void of real result. 

The meteor campaign of Stonewall Jackson had 
made the Valley its deathless name in chronicle; 
but, too, that fateful blow had fallen which struck 
closest to the heart of the South, and left the name 
of Chancellorsville a synonym for woe! 

The dull echo of the guns at Vicksburg was 
heard no more; silenced for aye by that capitula- 
tion which, close following the retreat from Gettys- 
burg, made the national day a veritable dies irae 
for the South. 

And now the Valley of the Shenandoah had 


50 


CBAO-NE8T. 


been plowed by hostile batteries; furrowed by the 
flying hoofs of Federal and Confederate in turn, 
as raid and campaign came thundering down its 
defiles, only to be hurled back by the stubborn 
constancy of their defenders. 

Winchester, the once glad queen of the lower 
Valley, had fairly earned her title of the ^^race 
track,” given her by General Crook; each height 
and streamlet for miles around her now made 
classic by daring dash or stubborn combat; her 
fair fields, one straggling cemetery for the name* 
less and the noted dead; her very streets blood 
spattered and her house fronts bullet scarred, 
from many a rush through them of pursuer and 
pursued. Yet, with that filial love for the mother 
town, peculiarly Virginian, the women of Win- 
chester — and only they were left with youngest 
stripling and the very aged — sat by their desolated 
hearths and, almost hopeless, still hoped on. 

Worse still, if possible, was the plight of those 
homes in the Valley, more scattered and remote 
from the sympathy and encouragement of closer 
contact; for the scythe of the sword had harvested 
well. Broad fields, late smiling with plenty, 
stretched away blackened and bare; tall barns, 
late filled with food for man and beast, swung 
open doors before their emptiness, where indeed 
the torch had left them more than charred 
skeletons. Stock and implements of production 


UNDER THE STRAIN. 


61 


had alike shriveled in the red flame of war; and 
many even of the old family servants had followed 
the Will-o’-the-wisp, misnamed Freedom, leaving 
the women-tenanted homesteads pitiably helpless. 

Crag-Nest was scarce exception to this general 
rule; albeit the strong character and clear com- 
mon sense of its mistress — aided by unusual 
storage of supplies and by the steadfast fidelity of 
old Ezekiel — had so far kept the war-whelped wolf 
somewhat farther from the door. 

Heedless alike of advice from friends and ur- 
gence by relatives, Mrs. Courtenay had remained 
amid her lessening household gods ; and there with 
her now were Val Courtenay and Wythe Dand- 
ridge; the old negro and his aged wife completing 
the household. Little change showed in the 
matron’s face or figure; the strong lines of the 
one perhaps a trifle deeper, the outline of 
the other no less firm and erect, albeit the plain 
black dress showed somewhat the touch of time. 
The elder girl, more grave and thoughtful as a 
rule, still upbore bravely under the pressure; the 
old time flashes of her saucy merriment sheering 
through the gloom about them. But Wythe, in 
her childlike simplicity of nature and her more 
matured personal charm, showed more plainly re- 
sults of ^^time and the hour.” 

Gay and grave by turns, she gave way not in- 
frequently to possession by the ^^blue devils”; and 


62 


CRAG‘NE8T. 


more than once Val had found her in floods of 
bitter tears, which only strongly worded remon- 
strance had turned away from the straight road to 
hysterics. Pale and with more distinct lines 
beneath her appealing eyes, Wythe w^as a more 
attractive woman than in her baby-beauty days, 
w hen the — th Cavalry had ridden so gaily to the 
mountain. 

But the most changed part of that household 
was the whilom stately Ezekiel; gorgeous no 
longer in his brass-buttoned swallow-tail and 
wealth of immaculate linen, but replacing both by 
a doubtful hued army shirt; while the carefully 
brushed but worn folds of the former were stowed 
away in hiding in ^^da loff ov da barn,” only to be 
donned on great occasions of advancing raid, or 
greater ones of rebel yelling pursuit. 

Neither of the girls had met their partners of 
the ball since that eventful night; and one of them 
had never voluntarily let the name of hers pass her 
lips. In their own apartment, Wythe had some- 
times introduced the theme, only to have it ab- 
ruptly changed by her cousin with the curt truth 
that “there were more serious things to think of”; 
and now her lips also were sealed on the tacitly 
tabooed subject. 

The morning succeeding the dance the girl had 
risen pale, sick and feverish; later taking to bed 
with a sharp attack of what the country doctor 


UNDER THE STRAIN. 


53 


pronounced ^^nervous fever; result of heat, over 
exercise and excitement.” Val, nursing her faith- 
fully for weeks, had been glad of excuse for seeing 
no visitors, save Rob, in his flying calls each day. 
But the sick girl only grew restless and pettish, 
when his messages were faithfully delivered; and 
all her cousin’s coaxing had only drawn from her 
the stereotyped phrase: ‘^There’s no answer.” 
Then, one night the colonel rode over in hot haste 
and bade them all farew^ell. A threatened raid 
by Averell into Western Virginia had brought 
orders to move at dawn; only temporarily the 
veteran thought. But weeks passed; and then an 
infantry regiment moved down the Valley, camp- 
ing on the cavalry’s old ground. Then came the 
active movements of the spring, and the cavalry 
was kept on the go about the border; so the women 
saw no more of their kinsmen. 

But in all those long months, Wythe Dandridge 
never breathed to Val one word of her chance 
eavesdropping. Gentle, affectionate, and yielding 
as ever to her stronger cousin, she felt that she had 
been slighted for her by the youth she thought had 
loved her; and her pride waited vainly for some 
confldence from the other side, which might give 
her the whole story of his proposal to Val, which 
she felt had been too lightly valued and scornfully 
refused. So, when no such confidence came, the 
girl shut up the memory in her sore little heart; 


64 


CBAG-NEST, 


drifting further away on a dreary sea of doubt and 
vainly striving to give shape to the Elmos-fire of 
her false imaginings. And Val Courtenay — firmly 
believing that the pure heart of her one cousin had 
wandered wholly away from the other, in its reach- 
ing for higher conquest of the man she herself had 
once loved and, as she believed honestly, now 
despised — waited for some word or hint that would 
give her ground for serious warning. She had 
even resolved, in her unselfish watch over her 
weaker friend, not to spare herself, did it prove 
needful to tell the whole story of her own trust and 
of the bitter awakening from it. But word, nor 
hint, came from the strangely closed lips of the 
other; and a tacit compact seemed to raise itself 
between the pair to “let the dead past bury its 
dead,” after its own fashion and in cerements of 
silence. 

At first frequent letters came from Rob Maury 
to his cousin, filled with query of, and messages to, 
Wythe. To the former she could give no intelli- 
gent reply; for the girl would listen dully to the 
latter, only repeating her invariable formula: 
“There'S no answer!” So, gradually, the letters 
grew less frequent; finally ceasing altogether 
under pressure of distance, active campaigning 
and other reasons, as Val told herself. For she 
believed that the boy, like herself, had at least 
caught the drift of his sweetheart’s preference; 


UNDER THE STRAIN. 


56 


and the pride of their common blood sided with 
and applauded his decision. 

Of Rob, however, they still had frequent news 
in his colonel’s letters to Crag-Nest; and these 
spoke of his good soldiership and refusal of pro- 
motion, to stick to his position as chief of the scouts 
organized by him. The letters also spoke some- 
times of Captain RavanePs good work and upward 
progress. But from neither direct did any letter 
now come; Wythe having promptly returned two 
bulky missives Rob first sent, and that young 
gentleman having refrained from repetition. But 
when the colonel’s letters came, Mrs, Courtenay 
would read them aloud and — naturally warming 
to their theme, amid her present surroundings — 
would descant volubly upon the grandeur of her 
kinsman and the noble conduct of his brave 
boys. 

Not wholly cheery were those long evenings 
around the lamp, in the now barer parlor of Crag- 
Nest, as the three women plied busy needles on the 
coarse fabrics for soldiers’ needs, with tongues no 
less busy, when their theme was the suffering and 
trials of those for whom they wrought. But less 
cheery still, to the two girls, were those evenings 
when the colonel’s letters came; for then the 
matron, her needle laid aside, would read aloud, 
re-read, and descant on them; her hearers sitting 
with heads bowed over their work and needles 


66 


CRAQ-NB8T. 


flying swifter through it, but with wholly silent 
tongues. 

So the weeks of the summer of ’63 dragged 
their slow lengths along, strangely unbroken to 
those patient- waiting women, save by rumor of 
distant strife, and by occasional sounds of distant 
cannonading, dully echoing from further down the 
Valley. But one bright, crisp morning Ziek ap- 
peared before his mistress, garbed as of yore, save 
for the frayed edges of his huge standing collar; 
his great eyes rolling with excitement as he cried : 

“Da’s cornin’. Mis’ ’Ginia, an’ I tinks I better 
mount Selim an’ reckonloiter ’em up da road.” 

Permission given — for it was the faithful 
black’s habit thus to scout, before each advance of 
friend or foe — Ezekiel was soon galloping up the 
Winchester pike, upon the lank mule, now sole 
component of the Crag-Nest stud. For the slick, 
horses had long since been impressed for artillery 
need; and Val — not without secret and bitter 
tears shed upon his neck, embraced by her fair 
arms — had long since sent her gallant chestnut 
to Kob, with a brief line to urge him to use the 
horse as a man should in his country’s need. 


VARYING VISITATIONS. 


67 


CHAPTER VI. 

VARYING VISITATIONS. 

Once more the lady of Crag-Nest and her two 
girls waited expectant on the old porch, gazing 
across the neglected lawn, to the now broken fence 
and half dismantled gate. About the porch, and 
the steps leading to it, stood tubs and pots, lifted 
from the now unsashed conservatory; but some 
nameless sympathy showed between the plants 
and their changed mistresses, for they seemed 
weaker, less thriving and somewhat uncared for 
in the garish, summer sunlight. 

And as the expectant women waited the return 
of their faithful old courier, the sound of many 
hoofs advancing rapidly broke upon the air, draw- 
ing nearer and nearer, until whirling dust clouds 
showed about the turn of the hill beyond, and 
through them emerged the head of a cavalry 
column. With clatter of hoof and clank of ac- 
coutrements, the column — a considerable body — 
came on and passed the gate; three riders drawing 
out from its head and turning in toward the house. 

^Welcome, my kinsman!’^ Mrs. Courtenay cried, 
running down the steps with outstretched hand 
and glowing face, as she recognized Col. Calvert. 

A moment later, the veteran threw himself 


58 


CRAO‘NEST. 


from his horse with the agility of a younger man ; 
but still stood erect by his bridle until his com- 
panion dismounted more slowly, when both threw 
their reins to the orderly. 

‘‘Ah! Cousin Virginia! As ready of welcome as 
ever,” the colonel cried. “But you know the gen- 
eral, of course. You too, my fair kinswomen,” he 
added to the advancing girls, as he bent his tall 
head over the old lady^s hand; then turning to 
sweep both fair foreheads with his grim mustache. 

“Yes, indeed!” his companion cried with a 
merry laugh, as he too took the matron’s hand. 
“He were a sorry Virginia trooper that did not 
know Crag-Nest and its mistress!” 

“She were a sorry Virginian, General,” the old 
lady answered with stately courtesy, “who did not 
feel it honor to welcome one of your name and race 
under her poor roof. Will you come in and rest 
a while before luncheon?” she added with a tele- 
graphic glance of warning to Val. 

“Thank you, we really have no time. We are 
on a forced march,” the general answered 
promptly. “But zounds! Colonel, I do envy you 
the perquisites of that gray mustache! Would I 
could change it, young ladies, for this foxy one of 
mine — with the conditions!” And the general’s 
jovial laugh rang out clear, as he stroked his huge 
brown beard with one hand and hitched up his 
sword belt around his ample waist with the other. 


VARYING VISITATIONS. 


69 


Rotund and short-necked, but with huge depth of 
chest and vigorous frame, the noted cavalry chief 
still looked every inch a soldier. Port and feature 
alike showed habit of command; and the jovial 
kindliness of the face spoke out from firm and 
resolute feature and clear, keen gray eyes. The 
mouth wms hidden by the long reddish mustache 
that met the heavy beard sweeping half over his 
chest; and his raised hat show^ed ruddy masses of 
hair of similar hue. His dress was the simple 
shell jacket and high boots; the only rank-marks 
the three stars and wreath upon his collar and the 
flowing black plume, caught with a star. 

^^You have heard the news. Cousin Virginia,” 
the colonel said as his companion’s laugh died out. 
‘‘You know’ that we have been beaten back from 
the very edge of a complete success?” 

“We have heard it all,” the matron said 
quietly; “Gettysburg, Vicksburg — all! God’s 
ways are the best. Cousin W'irt; but it is very 
bitter.” 

“It is all in the fortunes of war, kinswoman,” 
the old man answered. “I am not so sure that Vol- 
taire w’as wrong; and those fellows at Gettysburg 
certainly had the heaviest battalions. But I 
asked the general to stop with me a moment and 
advise you to take shelter in Richmond.” 

“Yes; he is right,” the general cried bluntly; 
“Crag-Nest is very exposed and on the direct 


60 


CRAQ^NMST. 


highway. We do not know surely, but I think, 
for a while, gray jackets will be scarce in the 
Valley.” 

‘^Are you not to camp near us again?” Wythe 
asked eagerly. 

^‘No; we are force marching to mass with 
Hampton,” the general answered, with a meaning 
look at the colonel. ‘‘We were the rear guard 
crossing the river. We both think it safer for 
you ladies to seek shelter within the lines.” . 

“And wherefore? We have so far been able 
to protect ourselves from Yankee intrusion — of a 
personal nature. Even those who took our stock 
and supplies respected our sex.” 

“Perhaps, my kinswoman,” the colonel re- 
plied with a shrug of his broad shoulders; “but 
then they knew we were always close behind them. 
From this out we may be ” 

“Close in front, with them behind us,” the gen- 
eral broke in with a laugh. “But seriously, my 
dear madam, your kinsman and I stopped solely 
to give you this warning. Better heed it, while 
you can.” 

“This is my home; the only one I have known 
since girlhood,” the old lady said gently, but very 
firmly. “It is the second home of these dear 
children; and broken as it is — denuded of so much 
that could make our friends happy beneath its roof 
— we love it as we could no other.” 


VARYING VISITATIONS. 


61 


will be happier here with her, Cousin 
Wirt; happier here with her than elsewhere,” Val 
Courtenay said advancing to her aunt’s side — 
^^and as safe, under His care.” 

Colonel Calvert only pulled his mustache, per- 
plexed; but the general said bluntly: 

^^Happier, perhaps, Miss Courtenay, but I doubt 
the safety. This is not a question of Providence, 
but of war’s necessity. With the Valley overrun 
and your friends out of reach, you would be cut 
off and helpless. I strongly advise your removal 
within our lines, as soon as convenient.” 

“You had best think seriously of this, Cousin 
Virginia,” the colonel said gravely, “before it is 
too late.” 

“I will think of it; and I thank you both for 
your thought of us;” the old lady answered, her 
head still erect. “But can not I induce you to 
stay even for a glass of wine?” 

“Impossible, madam. Colonel, we will have to 
ride hard now to overtake the column,” the gen- 
eral answered; and with cordial adieux to the 
ladies the soldiers were soon in saddle and gallop- 
ing after the distant dust cloud. The three women 
stood still and silent until they disappeared; then 
Mrs. Courtenay cried: 

“Why, girls! what want of thought! None of 
us asked for Rob or Captain Ravanel.” 

A vivid blush was Wythe’s only answer; but 


62 


CRAG-NEST. 


Val Courtenay, placing her slim hand on the blue- 
veined one, said quietly: 

^^And shall we move away, aunt?” 

have promised them,” the old lady answered 
quietly, “I will think about it. But come, my 
children, while Crag-Nest is our home, we have 
duties in it.” And the three Virginian women 
turned their backs upon the bright sunshine and 
moved into the silent house. All that day and the 
next Ezekiel did not reappear; and the lonely 
women w ondered at his absence. But they did not 
grow uneasy, for there was no hint of enemy in 
the Valley; and they merely supposed that, taking 
the wrong road, he had missed the friendly column, 
and had wearied out his old mule in search for it. 
But in the diminished household his absence was 
seriously felt, though the girls cheerfully did all 
they could to fill his place and lessen the extra 
burthens upon the old negress. But on the 
second evening, speculation ran into uneasiness; 
and the girls tramped several miles to the nearest 
neighbor to make inquiries and organize a search. 
It was quite dark when they returned without 
news; and doubt and fatigue made the simple 
supper quieter and more gloomy than ever before. 
That nameless foreboding which oppresses some- 
times without cause, seemed to weigh upon the 
household, sealing their lips like lead; and the 
women separated early. Kissing her aunt for 


YABTIirG VISITATIONS. 


68 


good-night, Val Courtenay paused an instant; then 
said gravely: 

have been thinking over their warning, aunt. 
As we walked across the mountain it seemed more 
lonely and desolate than ever before. Per- 
haps it would be safer to leave home — for the 
present.” 

^^In the hands of Providence, my child, we are 
as safe in one place as another,” the old lady an- 
swered calmly. ^^Surely you do not fear these in- 
solent invaders more than before. They have 
visited us often enough to be too familiar to dread. 
But, never mind. As I promised my kinsman; I 
will think about it!” 

In their own room, the girls were soon ready 
for rest; and Wythe quickly yielded to fatigue and 
slept deeply, if restlessly. Val placed her tallow 
dip in its tall, silver candlestick upon the night 
stand, her watch near it, and was about to follow 
her cousin, when the latter tossed in her sleep and 
spoke broken words: 

^^Come back to me — miss you so — know I need 
you now — never loved Val — ^,” were the disjointed 
phrases that fell upon her ear. Pale as her soft 
gown, the girl bent upon the sleeper glowing eyes, 
and a smile in which pity struggled with con- 
tempt curled her lips. 

^Toor little fool!” she said slowly to herself. 
'‘Can she really love that—pshaw! It must be a 


64 


CRAG-NJSBT. 


passing fancy only; but he — the donble traitor, to 
dare! And under this roof — before my very face! 
— Oh! she can not, really — but poor old Rob? To 
throw him over so, without one word!” — She 
paused as the other spoke again — ^^That man’s 
name! Silly child, you scarce deserve my pity. 
That, and my contempt I should keep for my- 
self!” 

Moving noiselessly, she passed to the old-time 
bureau, candle in hand; softly opened a drawer 
and took up a tiny casket. Then she stood star- 
ing at it a while; swift emotions chasing each other 
across her face as her eyes riveted upon the lid. 
Raising them suddenly, the woman caught her re- 
flection in the mirror, tall, weird and ghost-like in 
the fitful candlelight; and vivid blush dyed the 
oval of her face and slim, soft curves of neck, at her 
own expression. Then the color died away, the 
face hardened into resolution and the lips set 
firm and almost cruel, as she sprung the casket’s 
lid with firm hand. From it she took a yellow, 
time-stained note; a dance-card and a dry and 
crumbling rosebud — white once but now black, 
powdering as she moved it with quick gesture of 
disgust: 

^^Better one fool than two,” she whispered 
through set teeth. ^^Why should I keep these 
milestones on my fool’s errand of the past? What 
is it to me who cares for him now! Fraser Rava- 


VARYING VISITATIONS, 


65 


nel, God knows I do not hate yon! May He forgive 
me for despising you!’’ 

One quick clinch of the slim, nervous hand, and 
the dry bud was powder in it. Then slowly, but 
not trembling, that hand held the little note and 
dance-card in the sickly flame; the set lips once 
more curling into contemptuous curves, as the 
paper crinkled and blackened, then fell into a 
little heap of gray ash. 

Slowly the girl turned; once more set the 
candle upon the stand, and placed the solid silver 
extinguisher over the soft tallow. Then she sunk 
noiselessly upon her knees, rested her forehead 
upon the coverlid and prayed long and silently. 
At last she rose, calm and placid; laid her head 
upon the pillow and slept at once. 

How long had passed she knew not; but sud- 
denly Val Courtenay found herself sitting bolt up- 
right; wide awake and listening intently. Even 
through the closed windows, the tramp of horses 
came plainly to her ear; and they were rapidly 
approaching the house. Springing up she threw 
a wrapper about her, and passed to the window, 
peering into the hazy gloom without. Then, her 
eyes growing more accustomed to the dusky light, 
she saw dim forms of horsemen moving swiftly up 
the path; some halting directly in front of the 
house, while others deployed right and left to sur- 
round it. Plainly they were Federal^, for she 
5 


66 


CBAO-NE8T. 


knew that friends would take no such precaution; 
but, ere she had time to move, a familiar voice 
broke quavering upon the night: 

^‘Mis’ ’Ginia! Missus! The gennelmuns axes ter 
be recebed.” 

Passing swiftly to the bedside. Val touched 
her sleeping cousin lightly, saying, as she lit her 
candle: 

^^DonT be frightened, dear. The Yankees are 
here. Dress quickly and come down. I am going 
to aunt.” 

She lit the second candle as she spoke and 
passed from the room, the fitful gleam of the light 
she held aloft projecting fantastic shadows across 
the broad hall, that, in the midnight stillness, had 
frightened many a woman, in other days than this. 
But recking nothing of them, the girl passed 
rapidly down the broad stair only to find the hall 
door already open and the tall, erect, black figure 
of her aunt, silhouetted against the gleam of the 
candle sputtering in the night wind. And as she 
hastened downward, Val caught the clear voice — 
no more perturbed than if ordering a glass refilled 
at her own table: 

“Ezekiel, why are you disturbing us at this un- 
seemly hour? Dismount at once and go to your 
own room.” 

“Dismount, sir!” echoed a clear voice from the 
darkness without. There was a sound of quickly 


VARYING VISITATIONB. 


67 


given orders; a clank of sabers in dismounting and 
the click of four carbines brought to a ready. 
Next instant heavy boots tramped up the broad 
steps and the tall officer in blue, flanked by Ezekiel 
on the left, stood facing the lady, within the taper^s 
feeble gleam; while just around it dimly showed 
the muzzles of the carbines; and at the moment 
Val Courtenay passed to her aunt’s side, without 
a word, but placing her hand quietly upon her arm 
in token of support. 

“What has come over you, Ezekiel?” Mrs. 
Courtenay queried, calmly ignoring the enemy’s 
presence. “I send you on an errand, you stay un- 
seemly time and return with strange men at mid- 
night.” 

“ <For’ da Lor! Mis’ ’Ginia, I dunna mysef,” 
Ezekiel began, forgetting all his dignity in the 
emergency. “Da Yankee gennelmuns jess nabbed 
da ole man ” 

“It is not his fault, madam. Permit me to ex- 
plain,” the tall soldier broke in, not discourteously. 
“We were hanging on Fitz Lee’s flank; but his 
rear guard, under that old firebrand Calvert, held 
us off ” 

“Pardon me, sir,” Mrs. Courtenay interrupted 
with perfect calmness. “As a perfect stranger, I 
may save you awkwardness by stating that the 
gentleman you refer to is my kinsman.” 

“You have reason to be proud of him, madam,” 


6 $ 


CRAG-NE8T. 


the officer replied, passing his gauntlet over his 
mustache to repress a smile. ^^Briefly, your peo- 
ple outnumbered and outrode us; we were forced 
to by-paths, picked up this sable gentleman, and 
found him as well known to the country side as 
your home is to us, madam. His detention is our 
fault. We have information that old — ahem! — 
Colonel Calvert, and perhaps bigger game, are un- 
der your roof. The house is surrounded, escape is 
impossible. We want them.” So speaking the 
officer advanced one step toward the door; the old 
negro making quick side step toward his mistress 
and promptly facing him. 

^^Stand aside, Ezekiel,” Mrs. Courtenay said 
quietly, can not see our late visitors. To you, 
sir, I can only say that you are much too late. The 
only occupants of this house are three ladies — all 
unarmed. I regret extremely that you did not 
arrive while my kinsman and his friends were here; 
for they had given you more fitting reception for a 
soldier.” 

am extremely sorry, madam, to discommode 
you,” the officer answered quietly. “I am Major 
Buford, of the — Pennsylvania Cavalry. I am in- 
formed that these rebel officers are here; and even 
at the risk of incurring your displeasure, it is my 
duty to convince myself that I am wrong.” 

^^And pray, sir, if my word be insufficient, 
how do you propose to do this?” The old 


VARYING VISITATIONS. 


69 


lady/s voice trembled slightly, but plainly not 
from fear. 

‘‘I regret that I shall be compelled to search 
the house, madam,” the officer answered decis- 
ively. ‘‘I shall give you as little discomfort as 
possible. Already my men are doing as much for 
the outbuildings. Pardon me, it will not take 
long.” 

As he spoke he pointed with his sword to 
lanterns flashing here and there about the open 
barn and deserted negro quarters, and again rais- 
ing his hat he moved one step toward the door. 

The lady of the house stepped back from the 
entrance, her right hand holding the candle 
steadily aloft, while her left gently sought her 
niece^s, as though to restrain her. 

^‘We are defenseless women,” she said, with 
much the air “The Austrian” might have used 
to the rabble in the palace; “the sole resistance 
we can make is protest. If, sir, your duty forces 
you to violate the proprieties of my home, I my- 
self will conduct you. Come, sir; this is our draw- 
ing room.” She flared the candlelight into the 
empty room, as the soldier crossed the portal and 
doffed his hat. “Valerie, my child, I must not 
leave you alone; come with us.” 

“Pardon me, madam,” the Federal said, glanc- 
ing into every corner of the bare room, “but per- 
mit the negro to pilot us. The gentlemen we look 


70 


CRAG-NEST, 


for are not apt to come for the asking. Our inter- 
view might prove unpleasant, if nothing more, to 
you ladies.” 

^^In my husband’s day,” the matron answered 
gravely, ^^he permitted no stranger to enter these 
rooms unescorted. As his representative, I must 
show you no less consideration. Come, sir. Time 
must be precious to you, and we are wasting it.” 
She crossed the hall as she spoke, throwing wide 
the door of her well-loved dining room; the Federal 
at her right side, pistol in hand, and four dis- 
mounted troopers with ready carbines bringing up 
the rear. 

So the strange procession passed the lower 
rooms and clanked up the broad stairway; silent 
and weird as the phantom host that leaguered the 
walls of Prague. One after another the doors of 
the vacant rooms were thrown wide by the firm 
hand of their mistress, only to be proved bare and 
tenantless to closest scrutiny. But reaching the 
door facing the stair’s head, Val stepped swiftly 
forward and stretched her arm across the casing. 
The officer, with quick gleam in his eye, made 
movement to advance; but the girl, catching his ex- 
pression, even in the dim light, answered it as 
quietly as clearly: 

^^You mistake, sir. I only mean that this is a 
lady’s room.” She rapped quickly on the door, 
raising her voice as she finished ; 



• y 


“you mistake, sir. I ONLY MEAN THAT THIS IS A LADY’S ROOM.” 

Page 70. 



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VARYING VISITATIONS. 


71 


^^Wythe, are you dressed?’’ For answer the 
door ‘ swung wide, and even the rough troopers 
stared at the pretty vision of the fair girl within; 
pale and wide-eyed, with golden hair rippling loose 
to the knees of her dark gown. Timorously, but 
with brave effort to be calm, Wythe stepped for- 
ward and joined her kinswomen. But she carried 
in her hand the tall silver candlestick, leaving the 
room behind her in darkness. 

A quick smile twitched the mustache of the 
Federal soldier, but his eye never left the windows 
reflecting the candlelight through the gloom, as he 
said: 

^‘Your pardon, Mrs. Courtenay, but we must 
search this room. The delay makes it possible 
that our quarry is here.” 

For the flrst time the old lady’s lips trembled, 
and the angry flash came to her eye, as the full, 
rounded chin raised higher, and she began: 

^^Sir! I have said that this apartment is — ” 

^^Ours, aunt!” Val broke in quietly. ^ Wythe 
and I will open our bureau drawers and hat boxes, 
if these — ” she paused before the word — ^^gentle- 
men will stand here and cover us with their car- 
bines!” 

Suiting action to word, she made a quick sign 
to the other girl; the two passed into the room, 
placing their candles on the bureau and rapidly 
opening the deep, old-fashioned closets and throw- 


72 


CBAO-NE8T. 


ing dresses and wraps hanging in them, out upon 
the floor. Turning to the heavy, carved bedstead 
they wheeled it away from the wall; and then the 
elder girl turned to the quiet soldier at the door 
and asked: 

^^You are satisfied, I hope, sir?” 

The officer again passed his gauntlet swiftly 
across his mustache; but he answered gravely and 
courteously: 

^‘May I enter one instant?” And not waiting 
for permission he strode across to the window and, 
raising the sash, peered below. Noting the sheer 
drop, without cornice or foothold without, he 
turned again to the hall; asked, by sign only, for 
one of the candles and, raising it high above his 
head, scanned the solid ceiling for trap-door, or 
roof-scuttle. Seeing sign of none, he turned to the 
matron and said quietly: 

^•You must comprehend, madam, how unpleas- 
ant it is for us to have disturbed your rest and 
made ourselves your unbidden guests. Duty, 
though not always pleasant, must be performed. 
And now, ladies, I will relieve you of our presence; 
satisfied that our men are not here, at least in the 
house.” 

^‘They are not here at all, sir,” Mrs. Courtenay 
replied haughtily. “Had they been, no daughter 
of the Cabbells had misstated the fact. But I 
must repeat my regret that they are miles away, 


VARYING VISITATIONS, 


73 


with their commands; else your reception had 
been more fitting than an old woman and two girls 
could possibly offer. As your duty here is fin- 
ished, I bid you good-night, sir! Ezekiel, attend 
these gentlemen.” 

His bow received by slightest inclination of her 
stately head, the speaker moved to the stair head, 
standing aside to let him pass; the black gravely 
led the way down the dusky passage and the 
troopers clanked down behind their leader. A 
moment later the recall sounded without; the 
scattered squads assembled for report of failure; 
and then the party trotted briskly down the path 
and were heard clattering along the hard pike 
beyond. 

“Oh! Aunt, how trying it must have been to 
you!” Val cried, caressing the still grim old lady. 
“But you must have known I would come; why did 
you go to the door alone?” 

“It is my place to receive all visitors to Crag- 
Nest, my child, be they friends or foes. But — ” 
her rare smile came to the firm lips — “you are 
brave children, and do not shame your blood. 
There are some hours to dawn; go to bed and sleep 
away recollection of this — intrusion!” 

She kissed both girls gently; but Wythe cried 
suddenly: 

“Oh! Aunt Virginia, they were right! We had 
better seek shelter in the lines.” 


H 


CBAG>imST, 


to sleep, my children, was the quiet an- 
swer. “I promised our kinsman that I would 
think about it.” She passed slowly down the 
stair; her voice coming back to them in the quiet 
order:* “Lock the front door, Ezekiel, and go to 
bed!” 


THE FIRST QUARREL. 


76 


CHAPTER YH. 

THE FIRST QUARREL. 

Once more summer was smiling serenely upon 
the Valley, ripening her sorely needed crops — 
however Nature may have had cause to frown upon 
man’s brutalizing her fair domain with hoof and 
steel and torch. For in the months between, the 
old familiar battle-ground had had little rest; and, 
while great armies watched each other elsewhere, 
as bloodhounds in the leash, raid and incursion 
from either side still scarred the bosom of the 
^^Daughter of the Stars.” 

Grant was now thundering at the Petersburg- 
back-door of the coveted capital of rebeldom; but, 
as diversion, Jubal Early had twice hurled Jack- 
son’s old soldiers across the Potomac — once threat- 
ening Washington herself — then, in stern reprisal, 
laying Chambersburg in ashes. But the wisdom 
of Lee now calls him back to guard that teeming 
granary, so vital to the needs of both their armies ; 
for the Valley must be held at any cost, at least 
until those precious crops are garnered, and stored 
beyond the reach of raid. 

And now Sheridan— massing all force avail- 
able in the lower Valley — fronts Early; cognizant 
as himself of vast results to come from his protec- 


76 


CRAQ’NEST. 


tion of it, or from the Federals forcing him beyond 
this fecund base of bread for country and for army 
alike. 

It is now mid- August, 1864, and the ladies of 
Crag-Nest still sit in its barer halls, now overlook- 
ing wholly waste fields and ruined outbuildings. 
For, during all those intervening months, Mrs. 
Courtenay had been “thinking about it,^’ but had 
never brought herself to leave that well loved roof. 
Indeed, she rejoiced many a time that home love 
had triumphed over discretion; for often the home 
— converted for the nonce into a hospital — added 
to the comfort, if, indeed, it had not saved the lives, 
of sorely wounded friends; sometimes of maimed 
and suffering foes. 

For the grand hospitality that gave Crag-Nest 
its fame of yore was drawn from that highest 
source which teaches that the thirsting enemy be 
given drink; and more than one blue coated raider 
had limped back to camp, blessing the tender touch 
of womanhood in that Valley home, and had sent 
its fame to gladden anxious hearts about distant 
fire-sides. But now the plants and shrubs — still 
more neglected and dejected looking than before — • 
remained always out of doors; rough bunks and 
cots, spread with clean but coarse sheeting, chang- 
ing their late resting place to a real conservatory 
for the sick. 

Tenantless now, the prim white row of narrow 


THE FIBBT QUARREL, 


77 


beds still spoke readiness for the worst; while the 
old lady and Val Courtenay paced the now dingy 
piazza, with slow step and quiet talk. 

^^It will be a true pleasure, my child,” the old 
lady was saying, as she unfolded her well creased 
letter and read with unaided eyes, “to have our 
kinsman as guest once more. See, he writes that 
he commands a brigade under Early; and that he 
will be in easy distance of the home.” 

“We may expect him by morning,” the girl an- 
swered absently; her eyes fixed upon the tall, blue 
mountain top she and another had once watched 
from the window, with the moon upon it. 

“Yes, in the morning, my dear; and Wythe is 
now putting the finishing touches to their room. 
Major Eavanel and Lieutenant Kobert Maury, his 
adjutant, will be with our cousin. It will seem 
like old times, my child, to have the three under 
our roof once more.” 

“Dear old Rob,” Val answered earnestly, “he 
must have proved quite a hero, to have promotion 
forced on him against his will.” 

“He is of our blood, my dear, and naturally did 
his duty,” her aunt answered calmly, “and Major 
Ravanel, too! Well, ^good blood can not lie.’ I 
wonder if he is as distingue as formerly.” 

“Doubtless,” Val answered, forcing herself to 
the brief reply. 

“Of course, my dear.” The old lady folded the 


78 


CBAG^NE8T. 


letter, placing it in the bosom of her worn black 
gown. ^‘It is his right of birth. The Ravanels 
are an old family, wealthy; and the major is an 
only child.” 

The girPs eyes came back from the mountain 
top, but looked straight ahead, as she answered 
coldly: 

^‘Yes, aunt; his ma doubtless is very proud of 
Major Kavanel.” 

Something in the tone made the old lady cast 
a quick, searching glance upon the speaker; but 
delicate courtesy of the old school refrained from 
comment, as the girl turned into the house with 
the words: 

^Toor little Wythe! I must go and look after 
her.” 

She passed up the broad stair, the fading light 
falling across a face calm but resolved; and, en- 
tering the open room where her cousin, flushed 
with exercise, was viewing her completed work, 
she said quietly: 

“Wythe, dear, have you finished?” But, her 
own glance answering her question, she took the 
other girPs hand gravely and led her to the win- 
dow; both seating themselves in the low seat made 
by its broad sill, as she added: 

“It is a long time since these old rooms have 
been used.” 

“Not since the — th Cavalry first came to the 


THE FJItST QUARREL, 


Valley,” the younger girl replied quickly. ‘^Oh! 
Val, how long ago that does seem!” 

Miss Courtenay’s face was turned toward the 
far crests of the Massanutten. For a moment she 
made no reply, speaking then with her eyes still 
studying the mountain top. 

“Wythe, I have never alluded to that time,” 
she said gently; “but I have thought much of it 
since.” 

There was no answer, in words; but an eloquent 
one might have been translated from the other’s 
sudden flush and decided pout, had her cousin’s 
eyes been upon her. So, innocent of random shot 
that told, the former went on: 

“We will meet them again to-morrow morning. 
I hope, Wythe, you will be considerate of Eob’s 
feelings.” 

“Are they so very delicate that they need nurs- 
ing?” Miss Dandridge queried sharply. “If so. 
Aunt Virginia might prepare a cot in the hospital 
for him!” 

The unusual tone and manner turned Val’s 
eyes from the crest to the speaker. 

“I am surprised!” she said quietly. “You 
sneer at Eob Maury as though he were a stranger 
and an enemy, rather than the friend of your girl- 
hood!” 

“A woman’s tastes may change, I suppose,” 
was the answer, given with a pert toss of the fair 


80 


CRAG‘NEaT. 


head. have always been polite and just to — 
your cousin, I hope. He certainly has no right 
to expect anything more.’^ 

am not sure of that, Wythe. He had at 
least the right to expect cordiality of old friend- 
ship; and, that failing him, to be told the rea- 
son — ” 

Young soldiers can usually supply their own 
reasons for their acts,” the girl cried, her cheeks 
ablaze and her tiny slipper tapping angrily on the 
floor. 

^^Proper pride — ^justice to you, might have pre- 
vented his supposing that a passing fancy — ” 

^Tassing fancy! — Well! — I think we had bet- 
ter not discuss this further, Valerie Courtenay! I 
don’t know that I need any advice; and I’m very 
sure that I have asked none!” And Miss Dan- 
dridge rose from the window sill and stood angrily 
facing her cousin; her graceful head thrown back 
and her blue eyes lit with an angry light, that Val 
had never seen in them before. 

^‘No, Wythe,” she answered quietly; ^^for the 
first time in our lives, my little sister has shut her 
heart to me. You know I have never intruded on 
it; have never violated delicacy before. But, dear, 
these are sad, dangerous days. Men are cut off 
suddenly from those they love; and you would 
never cease repenting injustice to a brave, true 
gentleman — 


THE FIRST QUARREL, 


81 


a perfect boy!^^ Wythe exclaimed witB 
much heat. ‘Tshaw! he doesn’t have a feeling 
deeper than thatP^ and her rosy little thumb 
marked a half inch against the elevated little fin- 
ger. ^^As for justice, well, I should think he — Val! 
We have been friends, almost sisters, so long. You 
are older than I, but there are some cases where it 
is best that advice should not be given until it is 
asked — No; don’t misunderstand. I have never 
blamed yoiiy dear.” 

^^Blamed me?” the older girl’s eyes widened in 
amaze. 

‘^No! You could not help it! You could not 
prevent a man’s fancy changing from one woman 
to another; and the chance that threw Major Rav- 
anel with me — ” 

“Wythe! What do you mean? What right 
have you to dream such a thing!” 

This time it was Val’s face that fiushed hotly; 
its lines hardened and lips set firm, as the full bust 
rose and fell. 

“Dreams sometimes come true,” the other girl 
answered, tossing her head. “People should be 
careful what they say, and where they say it, if 
others are to be catechised. Major Ravanel and 
I~” 

She broke off abruptly before the quick, com- 
mandful gesture. The other woman stood erect 
now; her tall head towering above her friend and 

6 


OBAQ^NBST. 


•S 

her voice cold and slow under coercion of her 
strong will, as she said: 

‘^Enough of this! I see now that I was wise to 
refrain before; very foolish to have ventured now 
one word of warning.” 

needed no warning, thank you.” Wythe 
spoke rapidly but defiantly; no yielding in her 
tone, or pose, before the strong anger and reproach 
of the other, as she added : 

^^The girl who needs one once, is — unfortunate; 
the second time, she is — a fool !” 

Val Courtenay’s face was eloquent, if her lips 
remained silent. Twice they moved, as though 
about to answer; but the well trained will reas- 
serted itself, and without a word she moved slowly 
from the room and down the broad stairs. 

Left to herself, Wythe stood erect and defiant; 
a plump, blonde Pythoness for the instant. Then 
the hot, fiushed face changed; the red lips filling 
to a decided pout, while a sort of wonder crept into 
the wide blue eyes. 

don’t care,” she cried aloud to herself. 
^‘It’s too bad! Val and I never quarreled be- 
fore; but it’s all Us fault! The idea to be thrown 
over like that, and then have her lecture me about 
my injustice to him! I hope I was not mean to 
Val. It is his fault if I wds^ and — I don’t — I be- 
lieve I don’t care one bit!” And to prove it, the 
spoiled child here dominated the newly asserted 


THB FIRST QUARREL. 


83 


woman, and Wythe Dandridge — throwing herself 
face downward on the colonePs freshly smoothed 
bed — indulged in the solace of a good old-time 
cry. 

But the tears of pure-hearted girlhood are but 
April showers; and soon the sobs ceased and the 
girl jumped up, with the rather irrelevant excla- 
mation: 

‘^Lor! It’s quite sundown; and what must my 
eyes look like!” 

But hasty application of cool spring water soon 
made the pretty, blue optics themselves again; 
and, after hastily smoothing the colonel’s rumpled 
coverlid, and taking a satisfactory look at her re- 
flected self in the old mirror, Wythe ran down the 
steps as though there were no such thing as war, 
foreign or domestic. She found Val, too, her self- 
contained and placid self; and the frugal supper 
passed as usual, with no restraint between the 
girls from their first passage at arms. And that 
night — when the matron kissed both and begged 
them retire early to welcome their guests betimes 
— Wythe slipped her hand into her cousin’s very 
gently; and the differing, yet loving, pair ascended 
to their room without a word. Silently they pre- 
pared for rest; but when the rosy, pleading face 
of the younger — rosebud-fresh as it peered above 
the snowy frill of her gown — came close to Val’s 
pale, thoughtful one, her long, graceful arms went 


84 


CBAQ^ITEST. 


out and took it to her bosom with the tender love of 
motherhood; and her lips, now quivering, pressed 
close upon the soft, fair hair before she said: 

^^You were right, and I wrong, little sister! 
There are some things which we must leave 
to heaven, and our own thoughts and hearts only. 
But, Wythe, dear, we have had our first angry 
word — and our last. I do not ask you to forgive 
me, for I know you have already.” 

<«Forgive! Why you dear old Val — the fair 
face was close against the dark one now and the 
rosebud lips pressed the firm ones close and long — 
^^you have been everything to me; and I would not 
have one reproachful look from you for the love 
of every man in the army of the Valley I” 




85 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A PORTRAIT EXCHANGED. 

Next morning’s sun was still young when 
Colonel Calvert rode up the now grass-grown ave- 
nue from the broken gate; Ravanel and Rob Maury 
following, and a courier behind them, and reined 
up before the broad but rather rickety steps of 
the well-remembered piazza. 

But early as it was, the lady of the manor again 
stood there with outstretched hand and gentle 
smile to welcome them. 

“Ah! Cousin Virginia! As ever, upon the ad- 
vanced picket of hospitality,” the veteran cried, as 
he dismounted from his tall war-horse and strode 
gaily up the steps; his long saber clanking at his 
heels. And he bent his mustache to the white, 
blue- veined hand extended graciously, as he added: 

“But where are your fair young aides?” 

“They are hastening your breakfast. Cousin 
Wirt,” the lady replied, as though a feudal suzer- 
aine welcoming her liege lord. “Yet I fear it will 
not prove all that we might wish for such welcome 
guests.” 

“And I have brought them two most unwilling 
captives,” he answered with a laugh, as he turned 


86 


ORAO-NEST. 


to his courier and added in lower tone as the 
horses were led away: 

^‘The larger bag on your saddle, Conyers, is to 
be given the old negro man at once.” 

am sure my cousin slanders you, young gen- 
tlemen,” Mrs. Courtenay said to the others, as she 
gave them her hands. ^^Else our poor reception 
of the past must linger with you still.” 

‘^The colonel knows we are only too glad to 
come, always,” Rob Maury answered awkwardly, 
and with reddening face. ‘‘I only said that it was 
my duty to stay with the brigade, because I’m so 
green and am to act as its adjutant-general now.” 

^‘And I could never have suggested riding by 
your gate, Mrs. Courtenay,” the young major 
added in his soft, quiet way, ^^had there not been 
some urgent need for corrected maps of the by- 
roads above — ” 

“Which can easily be made from here, if I may 
occupy Crag-Nest with an armed force for one day,” 
the colonel finished for him, as he rejoined them on 
the piazza. “You see I assume command of my 
brigade to-morrow; and this brevet captain” — he 
laid his hand kindly upon Rob’s shoulder — “also 
has general orders to write, details to make and 
all his plans to lay to catch Sheridan. But here 
is our little Lily of the Valley!” 

Verily Wythe looked the title, as she came into 
the framing of the great door, more timidly than 


A PORTMAIT EXCHANGED. $7 

her wont; her eyes cast down and her cheeks show- 
ing pale even against the ruffle of her pure white 
morning-dress. Straight from the kitchen — where 
heat and rapid aid to Val and the old negress 
might well have flushed her — the girPs face re- 
mained quiet and pale as she greeted the colonel 
and felt his lips upon her brow, but it colored to 
the root of her fair hair, as the Carolinian quickly 
advanced and cordially extended his hand. 

am so glad to see you again, Major Kavanel,^^ 
she said rapidly, ‘^even if your title is changed.” 

^^Many things have changed since we last met, 
Miss Dandridge,” he answered quietly, ‘'and not 
all of them for the better — though you are one of 
the exceptions.” 

“And I hope I am not unwelcome,” Bob blurted 
out, with lamentable want of tact for a brigade 
officer. “You see, busy as we were, the colonel in- 
sisted we should stop and — ” He ceased abruptly, 
blushing like a girl, as the awkwardness of his 
own speech struck him. 

“Aunt Virginia would never have forgiven 
him, had he not,” Wythe answered calmly, but not 
looking at him. And somehow she chanced to 
drop her handkerchief; and — stooping for it at the 
same moment as the major — failed to see his half 
extended hand, as she finished: 

“And here is Val. ^he will be so glad, too!” 

“Indeed I am!” that young woman answered 


88 


CBAO-JfE8T. 


for herself, coming out into the morning light, with 
a deepened tint upon her cheek, for which the 
kitchen fire might have been excuse. ^^Cousin 
Wirt, I began to fear you were indeed a deserter. 
And you, dear old Rob! and with shoulder straps 
at last!^^ She turned from the veteran^s salute, 
extending both hands to the boy; not moving her 
handsome head, as she added: ^^And I congratu- 
late you, too. Major Ravanel, upon your pro- 
motion.” 

^‘Which makes it all the more valuable. Miss 
Courtenay,” he answered, as he unclasped his 
sword belt. 

^‘Oh ! let me take it for you, and hang it on the 
rack!” Wythe cried, her blue eyes widening at 
VaPs warmth to one man and coolness to the other. 
Her plump little hands captured the shining steel 
scabbard; but his retained the belt, as the mock 
contention carried them within the hall, toward 
the many-antlered head that served for rack, just 
within it. And the eyes of each cousin without 
saw those of the other follow the maneuver; 
though the lips of neither noted it. 

^^But this is no more gracious welcome,” the 
old lady exclaimed, ^^than we gave Major Buford, 
of Pennsylvania, when he came hunting you and 
the general. Cousin Wirt.” 

^^We had a great laugh over that letjter. Cousin 
Virginia,” Rob cried, ^^though we were too sorry 


A PORTRAIT EXCHANGED. 


89 


the Yank did not find us really here. The colonel 
read us your account, down at Petersburg. Why 
you and Cousin Val acted like a pair of heroes.” 

^‘There was little heroism about it,” the old 
lady answered quietly. “And Wythe, too, behaved 
beautifully, for a girl!” 

And that young lady hanging the saber on the 
antlers, blushed as she heard the praiseful words; 
tinting deeper as her companion added: 

“I am sure you always would, Miss Dandridge. 
But you have not let your household forget me, 
I hope, because I am unfortunate enough not to 
be a Virginian.” 

“Indeed, I have not,” she answered frankly. 
“We have constantly spoken of you, quite as one 
of us; even when we had no letters from Cousin 
Wirt.” 

“I am sure you have,” the man went on ear- 
nestly. are the sort of woman any man may 

trust. I have never forgotten your promise, that 
night at the ball.” 

And Val Courtenay, following the older couple 
through the doorway, caught the last words; and 
across her now pale face swept the same expres- 
sion of mingled pity and contempt that had 
marked it, in the upper room, the previous after- 
noon. 

Complex indeed are the hidden springs that 
move that machine of mysteries, a woman’s heart; 


90 


CRAG-NE8T. 


for — had her own life hung in the balance of her 
truth-telling — neither one of that gentle pair could 
have put into words the feelings in her bosom, as 
Wythe caught the look that told she was over- 
heard. Blushing deeply, but with head defiantly 
erect, she spoke some commonplace to the hand- 
some soldier beside her; but her own voice sounded 
as meaningless to her as did the half-unheard reply 
in the man^s soft tone. 

Just then, Ezekiel^ — with more collar than 
usual rearing above the much-brushed blue coat — 
announced: 

^^Da mistus’s breckfus am served!” 

The three couples moved into the bough-decked 
dining room; and — appetite replacing analysis in 
the young adjutant^s mental outfit — ^the guests 
were soon busy with the viands pressed upon them 
by their gentle hostess. But it was a meal far 
different from that last one — so clearly remem- 
bered by them all — which the military trio had 
eaten under that roof; far more different still from 
what that matron’s will had spread before her 
guests, had Crag-Nest’s larder compared, in any 
sort, with the hospitable ambition of its mistress. 
And yet, simple and meagre as that breakfast 
really was, the men so plainly enjoying it had lost 
all zest had they known they were assisting at the 
sad rites over the last lone rooster on the place; 
that the light corn*waffles and the yellow eggbread 


A FORTMAIT EXCHANGED, 91 

represented an unusual gap in the well-guarded 
meal-can; and that their praise of old Esther — 
helpmate to Ezekiel — should justly have fallen to 
the fair hands and pleasure-glowing cheeks of the 
young girls, who now sauced the viands of their 
own construction with pleasant talk that echoed 
nothing of the late awkwardness without. 

“Ezekiel, the coloneFs plate,” Mrs. Courtenay 
cried gaily, breakfasting herself only on a muffin 
— “Just one joint of the chicken. Cousin Wirt?” 

“Not one scrap, my dear madam!” the veteran 
beamed, detaining the delicate, old-time china. 
“Zounds! I have breakfasted like Lucullus, and 
Esther is a Parisienne in dark masquerade! I tell 
you I have often eaten, at the Trois Freres Proven- 
ceaux itself, a specially prepared hombarde d^ecre- 
visses a la Murat that had not the delicate flavor of 
that chicken! The Yankees have left Virginia 
little else, but they have not captured all her 
cooks!” 

“For your sakes,” the old lady answered with a 
flush of pleasure, “I deeply regret that they have 
left so little for the cooks^ skill. Especially, 
Cousin Wirt, I would excuse our ‘potato-coffee^, 
knowing your love for the real berry; and that 
you, sir — ” she bent her head graciously to the 
Carolinian — “are great coffee drinkers in your own 
state.” 

" ‘Better a dinner of herbs, where love is’— eh, 


92 


ORAO‘NB8T, 


my dear?^^ the veteran cried across the table to 
Val; but, unnoting her quick flush, he nodded to 
Ezekiel, who moved from the room more swiftly 
than his butler^s dignity generally permitted. 

^^Experience teaches that many of our supposed 
necessities are merely habits,’^ the young major 
said gravely. ^^In camp, of course, it makes no 
difference to us, for parched peas in a tin cup are 
nectar, when we have time to make ^coffee.’ But 
ma writes me that even her delicate taste does not 
reject parched wheat, or potato, when no block- 
ader has managed to slip into Wilmington for 
months.” 

hope your mother has not forgotten me, sir,” 
the hostess answered. ^Tray write her of the 
great pleasure it gives us all to have you under 
our roof again. I hope our troubles have not aged 
her.” 

^^Not one bit!” Rob Maury cried, pouring black 
sorghum over his sixth waffle. “You’d think, from 
her photograph, that the major’s mother was his 
sister. Show Cousin Virginia her picture, major.” 

The Carolinian’s face was very grave; and he 
answered no word, as his hand went into the breast 
of his shell jacket, drew out a worn photograph 
and passed it quickly to his hostess. She took it 
with a bow; studying the face long and closely, 
ere she said: 

“She is wonderfully well preserved, but I think 


A PORTRAIT EXOHANOED. 


93 


I would recognize the lips and chin anywhere. 
And she has your eyes, sir; and the same black 
hair. Ah!” a sigh moved the worn silk on her 
bosom as she added gently: ^^Time has had some 
bitterness for us both since we met; but he has 
touched her most lightly. See, my dear, this is 
my old schoolmate.” 

As she spoke, she handed the picture to Val; 
Kob, at her left hand, leaving his waffle to pass it 
to his cousin. But, as his eyes fell upon the face, 
he cried bluntly: 

^‘Why, major, this isn’t your ma! It’s the other 
one the mess tried to tease you — ” 

For once the cool Carolinian’s poise was lost. 
A burning flush rose to his very forehead, as he 
stretched his hand nervously across the table, and 
his voice was hard and commandful as he cried: 

^‘Return it, sir! a silly carelessness!” 

But even then his eyes flashed into those of the 
woman opposite, to find them lifted from the pict- 
ure to his own, one instant only. But in that 
space he read the same contempt they spoke at 
the riverside, two long years ago; and they spoke, 
too, recognition of a face and figure seen but once 
before. Then, self discipline triumphant, he was 
himself again; and the voice was soft and gentle 
that said to his hostess: 

beg your pardon for my carelessness, Mrs. 
Courtenay; and ma’s for mistaking her picture for 


94 


OBAGhNEST. 


any other — a quick flash of his eyes went out to 
Val — Hady^s^ value that as I may.” 

As he spoke, his hand again went to his breast, 
returning the picture and then proffering another 
to the old lady, as he added: 

^^You see ma’s hair is as white as your own; 
that of the other lady has no silver in it.” 

*^I ask your pardon, cousin!” the colonel here 
cried out, as Ezekiel bore in a massive silver salver, 
crowned with a venerable tin coffee-pot. But I 
could not resist a little surprise for you. Mrs. 
Eavanel sent her boy a rare present of blockade 
coffee; and he disobeyed orders and forced half of 
it upon me. Now — smell that! and there’s enough 
in the bag to last my cousins a month!” 

The grateful, but long unknown, aroma 
steamed from the tin, now set before the hostess. 
But an aroma yet more subtile and far reaching 
seemed to fill the space between, as the proud old 
eyes — moist and gentle now — bent upon the vet- 
eran; the unseen essence of that love and selfless- 
ness, which permeated all who wrought and suf- 
fered in those days; without which all had long 
since yielded to tho wearing strain. 

The brave, gentle woman — dauntless before all 
threatened peril — ^yielded to the more gentle as- 
sault upon her. The soft afterglow was on the aged 
face, and her lips trembled in their effort to form 
the brief words: 

^^My kinsman, we thank youP 


A PORTRAIT EXCHANGED. 


96 


Then the delicate tact of both spared further 
words; the colonel deftly changing the talk to 
reminiscence of that far past, in Paris; of that so 
different one, more recent and nearer home, 

“Yes; everything is most uncertain,” he said at 
last. “I am not hopeless at all; but we can not 
close our eyes to the dire need for more men. We 
have learned to live pretty well without supplies, 
and to fight fairly without arms. But thinned 
ranks can not be filled by sheer will; and Grant’s 
boast was fact, that he has forced us to ^rob the 
cradle and the grave.’ Why, Cousin Virginia, Rob 
there is a veteran to some lads sent me lately ; and 
I am a very youth to some old men at Petersburg — 
I am sure that General Lee feels this truth; and 
— ^though he speaks nothing of it — I feel that he 
wishes the worst was met and over with. But the 
president is adamantine; a man with eyes and ears 
that he can force to see and hear only from within. 
Both know the dire need of holding this Valley; 
but Sheridan knows it, too. A great soldier that! 
And he is facing Early with overwhelming num- 
bers, and can add to them at will; while we — 
W’'ell!” — he broke off, pulling his huge mustache 
thoughtfully a moment; then adding courteously: 
“But, ladies, I ask your forgiveness for talking 
thus to you. Long exchange from the drawing- 
room for the camp must plead my excuse. And 
now, major and Master Rob, look at that!” 


96 


CRAO-NE8T. 


As he spoke, he pointed to the huge, upright 
clock, carved and ponderous, that faced them 
across the hall; and ere he finished, its strong 
chime rang out ten times upon the still summer 
morning. 

^^As we are, none of us, ‘laggards in love,’ gen- 
tlemen,” he added, bowing to his hostess as he 
rose, “neither must we be in war. This is most 
pleasant, ladies; but duty is the stern mistress of 
pleasure in these days. Mr. Maury, we must get 
to our orders and details. Major Ravanel, you 
had best mount as soon as possible; and — with 
your permission. Cousin Virginia — Ziek can serve 
his country. He will be an invaluable guide for 
cross-roads and short cuts, major, for some miles 
about here.” 

So the breakfast party broke up; and Rob 
Maury sat, coatless and warm, before great piles 
of muster rolls and orders, busily at work; the 
colonel, also coatless, sitting bolt upright in the 
chair facing him, and aiding by a frequent brief 
nod, or rarer quick, short word of suggestion. 

Half an hour later Wythe Dandridge looked 
from the window of the kitchen — where the pres- 
ence of both girls was more necessary, in prepar- 
ing dinner, from the old negro’s service to his 
country — and saw the engineer officer mount his 
horse at the barn. The negro was already 
mounted on the courier’s steed; and the officer. 


A PORTRAIT EXCHANGED. 


97 


having examined his pistol and returned it to the 
holster, made some hasty notes in a memorandum 
book, motioned to his companion, and both can- 
tered across the bare field through a gap in the 
fence and disappeared in the woods beyond. 

‘‘He’s riding the black, Val,” the girl cried. “I 
wonder what has become of dear little Santee!” 

“How should I know?” the other answered 
quietly. “I think this will do, Aunt Esther. Don’t 
have the fire too fast.” 

There was silence for a long while; only broken 
then, and through all that summer day, on tech- 
nicalities, as the girls went cheerily enough about 
their household duties; later sitting with their 
aunt, over rough sewing, until dinner time. By 
that, the young adjutant was more weary than 
after a day’s march or a hot skirmish; and the meal 
was quite ready when the major returned, sun- 
burned and dusty, but seemingly content with his 
day’s work. He went straight to the colonel’s 
room for report ; the three gentlemen coming down 
together. 

Serious matters seemed to engross them all; 
for the talk was less cheery than at breakfast, and 
the colonel declared an early departure necessary, 
to profit by the young moon. So, sitting together 
on the broad piazza, until the horses were brought 
around, there was no chance for tete-a-tete among 
the young people, even had any of the four shown 
7 


08 


CRAO-NBST, 


disposition for it. Rob talked apart with his 
cousin, seriously and low; and Wythe, rather ab- 
sent mannered, seemed a trifle wearied of the 
major^s quiet speech and coolly courteous manner. 
The colonel, too, was grave and preoccupied, often 
reverting to the coming struggle for the possession 
of the Valley. And finally he said: 

is more than a year. Cousin Virginia, since 
the general and I urged you and yours to seek safer 
rest, for the present. What we urged then is 
more true now. Should Sheridan beat Early back, 
there is no telling where we may stop. You would 
then be cut off, and in the enemy’s lines.’’ 

^‘That is true,” the old lady answered, with a 
cloud upon her face and a yearning glance into 
the hallway; and a great sigh came, as she added: 

^^You must be right, Cousin Wirt. I will write 
to our relatives in Richmond to-morrow.” 

The veteran took her hand gently in his brown, 
knotted one. 

^‘You are a brave lady, my kinswoman; and I 
know your courage. But I consider now that I 
have your pledge; that you will move within the 
lines.” 

The tall crown of her cap nodded forward 
twice, before she answered. Then her voice shook 
strangely, as she glanced at the girls and said: 

“Yes; for their sake, I will leave Crag-Nest.” 

The courier rode up, leading the horses. Fare- 


A PORTRAIT EXCHAirOED. 


$9 


wells were said, sadly as though omen of disaster 
oppressed them all. Val ran to the handsome bay 
— her gift to Rob — calling his name and stroking 
the nose he rubbed against her shoulder in old 
friendly way; and Wythe, on the step called out: 

^^Oh! major, where is pretty little Santee?” 

^‘1 lost her, Miss Dandridge,” he answered 
quietly, turning to arrange his saddle roll. 

^^Did I not write it, my child?” the colonel ex- 
claimed. ^^She was shot under him at Gettysburg, 
as he led a regiment in Hampton^s charge.” 

Why, she herself could not have told, but Val 
Courtenay felt her cheeks burn red, as she hid 
them behind the bay^s tossing neck. 

The colonel and Rob in saddle, and the latter^s 
hand pressed by his cousin for final farewell. Last 
adieux were spoken; the veteran spurred on and 
Val turned toward the house. Somehow the 
major^s girth was wrong; and the girl, passing 
near him, heard the low voice, though his head was 
turned away: 

‘Will you not bid me God speed?” 

“He knows I wish you well!” The answer 
came from scarcely moving lips; but they added: 
“For more, ask that lady who — ” 

He was erect; his eyes steadily on hers, his face 
grave and haughty, as he finished: 

“Who is the peer of any in this land!” 

And as the low words reached her ear, he had 
vaulted to saddle, spurring down the path. 


100 


CBAG^NEST. 


CHAPTER IX. 

FROM THE OPEQUON. 

Dawn of the 19th September broke hot and 
sultry; heavy clouds curtaining the East, while 
hot, dry puffs of wind sent dull and low drifts 
along the crests of the Massanutten, like skirmish- 
ers in advance of the line of battle. 

But that sultry dawn found the household at 
Crag-Nest already astir; for its head had at last 
ceased “thinking about it,” and had now deter- 
mined to move her family — and what of her house- 
hold goods she might — within the Confederate 
lines. Answers to her letters had come from Rich- 
mond; and, with Mrs. Courtenay decision meant 
action. Two days had been spent in busy prepa- 
ration; for the constant clatter of couriers at speed 
and the rumble of ammunition and wagon trains, 
along the Winchester pike, all told of early and 
heavy action at the front. 

But the previous night had redoubled all of 
these; the tramp of heavy masses of infantry 
sounding continuous; cut sometimes by the rattle 
of swift moving artillery and again by the rapid 
trot of cavalry squadrons; while far and near was 
heard the dull rumble of ambulances of sick and 
wounded passing to the rear. 


FROM THE OPEQUOH 


101 


And now — the cloud-dulled lances of sunrise 
still failing to pierce the leaden dawn — low rumb- 
ling sounds echoed along the Valley gorges and 
caught the ears of the anxious women. They were 
too continuous for thunder; breaking at long in- 
tervals, only to reverberate again; and long ex- 
perience told the listeners that Strategy had once 
again bidden Valor 

“ Cry * havoc I ’ And let slip the dogs of War.” 

^‘It is certainly a battle, aunt; and between us 
and Winchester, somewhere,” Val said, as the 
three women stood listening upon the lawn in 
front of the house. As all is ready, we had better 
move as soon as the road is clear.” 

^^General Early may drive them before him,” 
the old lady answered, with yearning glance up 
at the house. so, we will still be safe here. 
And even then, we may be useful to some of the 
poor, maimed boys sent back from the victory.” 

^^But it may be defeat,” Wythe cried, listening 
intently to the guns — now roaring continuous, and 
seemingly more near. ^^Remember, Cousin Wirt 
said that Sheridan so outnumbered Early.” 

^^Our outnumbered heroes have conquered be- 
fore, my dear,” the old lady answered calmly. 
^‘You have not forgotten how Jackson swept them 
before him down our Valley. But, my children, 
we will move to-day; because I have promised.” 


102 


CRAG^NEBT. 


As she spoke, Ezekiel came rapidly toward the 
house, pick and shovel on shoulder. 

’Ginia, I’s bin diggin’ mos^ all nite, an’ da 
grabe’s ready.” 

^^The grave! Ezekiel,” his mistress answered, 
surprise dominating her usual calmness. ‘What 
in the world do you mean?” 

‘‘Da majah ge’en me da wud,” the negro an- 
swered shrewdly, “da day me an’ heem reconloiter 
dem roads. He say, ‘ole man,’ sez he, ‘when da 
ladies lebe, you gwine berry all da silver wot ’e 
can’t carry ’long,’ sez he. He ge’en me da wud 
an’ da grabe’s ready, an’ deep, too.” 

“Faithful old servant,” Mrs. Courtenay cried, 
“you are indeed a reliance, when our kin are 
needed elsewhere. And — ” she turned warmly 
to Val — “how thoughtful of the major; so quiet, 
yet so full of resource.” 

“Very,” the girl answered quietly; “but it seems 
to me the silver is safe where we threw it in the 
cellar under old wine boxes and straw.” 

“Mebbe, missy,” the black answered promptly, 
“but da majah ge’en me da wud ’bout dat, too. He 
say, ‘ole man, look out fur da berry’n’. Da Yank 
may bun da house,’ sez he.” 

“Oh! He was right!” Wythe cried earnestly. 
“Burying it is safer.” 

“Yes; they may burn the house.” Mrs. Courte- 
nay’s voice shook as it echoed the words; and, for 


FROM THE OPEQUON. 


103 


the first time amid all her trials, the brave old eyes 
were full of tears, as she lifted them to the loved 
old pile. But quickly recovering, she turned to 
the old negro with the mien of a general conferring 
decoration, and to the girls as giving an order to 
charge: 

^^Your fidelity shall be remembered, Ezekiel — 
Girls, to the cellar! We will all aid in the safety of 
my husband’s silver!” 

Promptly all the four sought the dim cellar, 
coming up its narrow stair laden with silver, urn 
and candelabra; bearing without to the deep pit 
in mid corn field. Then, an old carpet wrapped 
over them, the negro packed down the soil, smooth- 
ing the surface and strewing blackened stalks 
above, to hide its freshness. 

Some hours later, all was ready; each sash 
and shutter closed, and only the great hall door 
still wide, as though regretful to end — even for 
a while — its hospitable invitation. Near it, on the 
piazza, the two girls stood with sad faces and 
moist eyes; lunch basket, wraps and what bag- 
gage there was room for, piled upon the step. And 
Mrs. Courtenay, bonneted and gloved, moved 
slowly from one dim and empty room to another, 
fixing her eyes yearningly upon every detail of 
each, as though to stamp it indelibly upon her 
memory. 

Meanwhile, the cannonading grew more fitful, 


104 


CRAO^NEST, 


often ceasing wholly for a while, but each time 
its renewal seemed more clear, and now — as the 
two girls stood intently listening for the next re- 
port — it came so distinctly that the separate guns 
were noted; and the mountain breeze, now spring- 
ing up, bore through the gorges of the Massanut- 
ten the rattle of musketry, plainly distinguish- 
able. 

Wythe, they are driving us!” Val cried, turn- 
ing a pale face to her cousin. ^^God grant I am 
mistaken! But they are beating our boys back!” 

Wythe’s face, too, was colorless, but with no 
fear in the blue eyes as they turned toward the 
sound, and she answered : 

fear you are right, Val. God guard those 
dear to us!” 

Still the mistress of the house kept her slow 
walk through the deserted rooms, deaf to the omin- 
ous sounds without; to all save the whisper of that 
inward voice, ever repeating, dirge-like: “Leav- 
ing the old home forever!” 

But at last VaPs call aroused her from sad day- 
dreaming; for now the old negro was leading up 
the path from the barn the old mule, harnessed to 
the old barouche, that was to bear the refugees on 
their long and tedious journey. And still the 
cannon boomed nearer but less frequent, while 
the rattling crash of small arms volleyed nearer 
and more near. Grave and sad, but calm still, 


FROM THE OPEQUON. 


106 


the mistress of the house passed its portals, never 
daring to trust her eyes one backward glance. But 
she spoke very calmly and gently : 

^‘It is hard to leave you behind, Ezekiel; but 
someone must watch the old home, even were 
there room and were Selim equal to greater load. 
And you could not leave her — ” She turned to 
the bent old negress who had crept toward the 
group, her apron over her head; her lank body 
rocking from side to side, in her race’s strongest 
token of woe. ^^Good, faithful friends, both! The 
Great Master will reward you better than your 
poor mistress can.” 

With courteous dignity, grand in its gentle- 
ness, she took the hard, black hands of man and 
wife in her slim black gloves. But no further 
word was spoken when she released them; and 
Ezekiel began packing the bundles carefully in 
the vehicle. 

Suddenly hoofs sounded on the road beyond. 
Around the curve dashed a foaming horse, his 
rider hatless, without arms, bending on his neck 
and spurring as though for life. With one impulse 
the girls sped across the field to the fence, scream- 
ing after him some query, drowned in the clatter 
of hoofs. But as they reached the fence another 
came; soon, another, and then a squad — all reck- 
less, abject, maddened by panic, as they dashed 
up heedless of query, or answering only by sign. 


106 


CRAG-NEST. 


Pale with suspense — but not with fear — both 
women leaned over the fence, straining their eyes 
up the road; for the sounds of cannonading had 
died away and only scattered firing of small arms 
now was heard. And soon another horseman 
spurred along, but not so fast; a ghastly stream 
welling down his face from the red handkerchief 
that bound his head, as he swayed from side to 
side in saddle. Val was over the fence and in the 
road, screaming as he came: 

^^What news?’' 

^^Opequon! — Struck our right! — Early de- 
stroyed — the wounded man cried back, but never 
drawing rein. 

Then came more fiying riders, singly and in 
groups; many hatless, some coatless, most of them 
unarmed; the wretched, ghastly advance guard of 
a cavalry rout. But one and all — where panic 
let them speak at all — told the same shameful 
story of destruction, defeat and rout. 

“Val! We must go back to her. We know 
all now, and can do no good here.” Wythe’s face 
was very pale, but her voice was clear and brave; 
and Val, with never a glance at the oncoming 
group, clambered over the fence once more and 
they moved rapidly toward the house. 

“I know it, my children,” Mrs. Courtenay said 
calmly, before either could speak. “Sheridan has 
beaten us. There will be work for us to do here. 


FROM THE OPEQUON. 


107 


Ezekiel, take the carriage back. For the pres- 
ent, we will remain at home!’’ 

The hours of that afternoon dragged them- 
selves along with suspense-clogged feet, for those 
anxious watchers on the old piazza. They had 
promptly opened the house, piled their luggage 
in the hall to be ready for emergency, and made 
“coffee” for a hasty and meagre lunch. Then, 
they could only wait and watch for the outcome 
of that disaster, the extent and consequence of 
which they could not even conjecture. 

But it was plain that they were fortunate in not 
having left the home shelter; for the Winchester 
pike — along which their road laid — rapidly grew 
more crowded with flying squads, flrst mounted 
and later on foot; all in mad rush rearward for 
some unknown point of safety. And later lum- 
bered by some creaking wagons, with supplies or 
wounded men; their drivers urging their jaded 
beasts with whip and heel. 

The sun having routed and chased away the 
massed clouds of the morning, now beamed down 
hotly, half way ’twixt the zenith and his rest, as 
a great mass of gray jackets hurried round the 
road’s curve almost on the run, confused, half- 
armed and wholly demoralized. Among them 
flashed many a red or yellow facing, telling that 
artillery and cavalry were aiding the rout of the 
flying infantry; but through and flanking them 


108 


CRAO-NEaT. 


dashed mounted officers, brandishing their pistols 
and striving by voice and gesture to shame the 
panic back to discipline. 

Suddenly, out of the ruck one rider spurred 
across the road, taking the fence and galloping 
wildly toward the house, pistol in hand; and, ere 
the others could speak, Wythe Dandridge’s face 
flushed crimson, but her wide, blue eyes never left 
the wild rider, as she cried: 

^‘Look! — Rob Maury 

Throwing his horse almost on his haunches at 
the step, the boy cried: 

^^Thank God! You are here — not there!’’ He 
pointed to the road. “Keep close — be brave! It 
will soon change! Not a minute to stop! We 
must turn those curs!” 

Little like a boy he looked now; erect and 
strong in saddle, as Val’s pet horse stood statue- 
like, with heaving flanks. Hatless, his powder- 
stained and muddy jacket flung wide and the 
coarse, blue shirt thrown back from the broad, 
laboring chest, there was the grim set in Rob 
Maury’s features the charge of Torbert’s men and 
the break of his own brigade had left there; and 
through the firm lips and flashing eyes spoke char- 
acter before undreamed of, even by the three 
women hurrying down the steps with eager query. 

“Thoburn struck us on the right,” he answered 
rapidly. “Our green men took panic; the veterans 
could not stand their shock. Can’t tell any- 



“ THANK GOD ! YOU ARE HERE NOT THERE ! ” 


Paf/e 108 





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FROM THE OPEQTJON. 


100 


thing of the fight; have ridden miles, trying to 
rally those sheep! Yes, the battle’s over; firing 
has ceased. If the center and left broke, too, the 
Luray road below is worse than this!” 

^^And our friends?” Mrs. Courtenay asked 
briefly. 

^^The colonel swept by me like a lion, leading 
in our old regiment,” the soldier answered. ^^He 
ordered me to rally the break. Oh ! if I could only 
have ridden at them by him! But I must go; only 
stopped to warn you all. Good-bye. God bless 
you all!” 

Two women’s hands held his; only their grave 
eyes making mute answer through the mists in 
them. But the youth’s — leaving theirs in yearn- 
ing wonder — saw Wythe Dandridge hastening 
from the hall, a huge dipper of water in her hands. 

^^You must be thirsty,” she said softly, holding 
it up to him, but never lifting her eyes from the 
ground. 

^^Oh! Thank you!” Only three trite words; 
but the color shone bright through the sweat- 
streaked battle grime on his face, as he took the 
dipper and drank like a famished animal. 

^^And take this — please the little hands held 
up the package of lunch prepared for their own 
use; but still the eyes never raised. 

^Wes; take it, my son,” the old lady said. ^^God 
speed and protect you!” 

He was gone; crossing the field at a wild gal- 


110 


CBAGhlTEST, 


lop, clearing the fence below and plunging through 
the woods to head the fugitives now past. 

At last the long day of suspense wore toward 
its close. 

The victor sun slowly withdrew behind the 
western hills, and, ready for his nuptials with the 
Night, sent hot reflection of his triumph over them 
above the leaden clouds, low-lying in the East. 
And still waiting, the women sat together; 
strangely silent in words, but reading each other^s 
thoughts as they traveled to the battle-field be- 
yond, and sought to penetrate its clouds for token 
of friends, perhaps stretched upon it — suffering or 
dead. 

Nor did the lessening tumult on the road near 
by relieve their unspoken anxiety. Less frequent 
squads passed the gate, but these even more de- 
moralized and in rapid flight; and the lull, after 
the last of them, was broken by orderly tramp of 
cavalry; as heavy force of Thoburn’s troopers trot- 
ted swiftly by in close pursuit. But suddenly, Val 
Courtenay’s eyes — turned from the now still and 
empty pike — stared steadily toward the woods be- 
hind the house; what color was left in her grave 
face falling out of it. For, in that very gap in the 
old fence — through which Wythe had noted the 
absence of Santee, the day Ezekiel rode off with 
Major Kavanel — the girl saw an ugly picture sil- 
houette itself against the dying sunset. 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


Ill] 


CHAPTER X. 

BEYOND THE LINES. 

A man on foot moved slowly through the gap; 
leading his own horse, and supporting in the sad- 
dle of another the tall, swaying form of a wounded 
comrade. And, the two women, following VaPs 
fixed gaze, all rose without one word and passed 
down the steps to meet the unbidden but suffering 
guest, should he prove a friend or foe. But as the 
pair moved toward them, through the open field, 
and the light grew more clear, all three hastened 
forward in a run; but only the eldest spoke: 

^^Our cousin — badly hurt!” 

It was indeed the gallant old Calvert, faint, 
scarce able to keep his saddle, and held there only 
by the firm hand of Fraser Ravanel. 

^Ts he much hurt, sir?” 

The old lady^s face was very white; but her 
voice never shook in the query; and before the 
younger officer could speak, the veteran^ — braced 
by the familiar voice — sat up in saddle and an- 
swered feebly: 

“A hard hit, cousin, but not — ” he paused an 
instant; a spasm of pain crossing his ghastly pale 
face. Then his teeth closed hard on the gray mus- 


112 


CRAG-NE8T. 


tache, as he added — ^^Zounds! Enough to give 
you some trouble with me.” 

Gentle hands raised to support him on the 
other side; and Wythe, without a word, slipped the 
bridle from EavanePs arm and led his tired black, 
the brute’s intelligence noting the light touch upon 
the rein and following like a pet dog. Slowly they 
reached the steps; the grim old soldier at once 
braced himself to move his numbed feet from the 
stirrups. But the younger man spoke quickly and 
firmly: 

^‘Steady, sir! Do not move hand or foot. Call 
the negro, please.” He turned to Val and she flew 
toward the kitchen; meeting Ezekiel already run- 
ning up. With short, strong words of caution and 
direction, the Carolinian led the horse close to the 
piazza; then, with all their strength, the pair 
raised the colonel softly from his seat and bore 
him to the broad old sofa in the parlor. Soft, but 
experienced hands removed his jacket; by degrees 
the high thigh boots yielded to RavanePs skilled 
strength, and the veteran lay pale and motionless, 
but breathing easily, as one woman bathed his 
fevered forehead, another placed spoonfuls of whis- 
key to his lips and the third slowly fanned the 
drawn face. 

Rapid field surgery had cut away the boot top 
and riding pants, and a broad bandage of coarse 
cloth was wound about the thigh, hip and side; but 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


113 


it was soaked with blood and stiffened hard, as 
Val gently moistened it. And her eyes raised to 
the other man^s in mute query; but he answered 
promptly: 

“No, do not attempt removal. The surgeon 
was emphatic. Moisten, but do not loose it.’^ 

And the wounded soldier — reviving under stim- 
ulant — opened his eyes and smiled feebly, as he 
saw the watchers near; and his faint voice mur- 
mured: 

“Brave, true women! Always thinking of 
others.” He tried to wave his hand, but it fell 
back by his side, as he added feebly: “Don’t be 
alarmed — good as two dead men! Pardon the 
trouble — I give!” 

Then exhausted Nature called for relief upon 
her gentlest soother, Sleep; and — sure that he was 
resting easy — aunt and niece softly followed Rav- 
anel outside, leaving the younger girl to fan the 
sleeper. 

“How was he hurt, sir?” Mrs. Courtenay asked 
in anxious whisper. 

“Struck in the thigh with a fragment of can- 
ister,” the soldier replied gravely. “We were 
forced back slowly for a mile. Then the new men 
broke and it was a race for miles. At the cross- 
ing above he rallied the old regiment, turned it 
on the pursuers, driving them. Far ahead of his 
line, he was struck almost from his horse. The 

8 


114 


CRAQ-NE8T, 


men fled in panic; but I — he hesitated only a 
moment — ^ Vas fortunate enough to bring him off, 
knowing the little cross-roads. Greer, the brigade 
surgeon, saw us escape the chase and followed in 
the wood. It was providential ; or he would have 
bled to death on the spot.’^ 

The old lady grew whiter and her lips trem- 
bled as they whispered: 

^^An artery severed?” 

“A large one, in the thigh,” he answered 
promptly. “Greer tied it; told the colonel plainly 
the danger of motion, and advised surrender for 
safety. The colonel sternly refused ; said he would 
die in preference, and ordered me to mount him 
and take him to the rear.” 

“Will he recover, sir?” The query was cold 
and grave, but in Arm voice. 

“God only knows, ma’am. He has lost much 
blood, but has wonderful vitality. He must be 
absolutely still; the great danger is hemorrhage. 
Greer — if he eluded the pursuit — should be here 
soon. He promised to; when he had tended two 
desperately wounded officers.” 

“My cousin shall have every care, Major Kava- 
nel,” the matron answered; “and your presence 
will — ” 

“I, madam!” he exclaimed. “Why, I should 
not be here now, but aiding to rally and intrench 
our shattered force. I must get to saddle at once.” 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


116 


^‘You must do your duty, sir,” Mrs. Courtenay 
answered gravely. “We will try to do ours, when 
you go — Wait one minute, please.” 

She turned softly into the house; and there — 
for the first time in three years — under the shadow 
of great calamity and possibly death — ^the young 
man and woman were together alone. 

“You have put us under great debt of grati- 
tude, Major Kavanel. You have acted like a 
brave — ” imperceptibly almost she hesitated be- 
fore the word — “soldier.” 

“I have done my simple duty. Miss Courtenay,” 
he answered low. “You remind me that I neglect it 
now. One look at our beloved commander, and I 
must be gone.” He turned to the door; pausing 
suddenly as the clear note of a bugle echoed 
through the darkness, adding half to himself: “A 
Yankee bugle — the recall. The pursuit is off.” 

And he was right. Thoburn^s men had fol- 
lowed far and fast; taking prisoners sometimes, 
vengeance at others, until the scattering fugitives 
led them through strange roads and into the 
woods. Then the late chastening hand of the all- 
seeing Mercy dropped the veil of Night between 
pursuer and pursued. 

Quietly but swiftly the soldier passed to his 
comrade’s side; looking down on the pale, quiet 
face in the dim candle-light, with his own scarcely 
less still and placid. Then Mrs. Courtenay came. 


116 


CRAG- NEST. 


bearing with her own hands food and a small de- 
canter, as she beckoned him to the door and whis- 
pered; 

^^You must be exhausted, sir. Before you eat, 
have some old brandy.” 

^^Thanks,” he whispered back. ^^But I have no 
time to eat; and I have not tasted liquor since the 
war began. I promised ma; and — ” his face har- 
dened strangely — “I have good reason to keep my 
pledge.” 

Again the bugle-note cut the night, now close 
beyond upon the road; and Val Courtenay ran in, 
exclaiming: 

^They are here! I think they halted at the 
gate !” 

must be off then. I can not be taken here — 
away from the command ! Good-bye, ma’am — God 
guard you and yours!” 

He moved rapidly out as he spoke; pausing on 
the step to say: 

^^Good-bye, Miss Courtenay. If we never meet 
again — ” 

‘^Quick! They are coming!” as the clank of 
arms and tramp of hoofs again sounded at the gate. 

Without answer he bent very low to the ground, 
his ear turned eagerly toward the barn; and, even 
before he spoke, the girl’s acute sense caught the 
soft footfall of horses in that direction. 

^Th^ are there!” he whispered hoarsely. 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


117 


^^They have my horse and I am cut off. I must not 
be taken. Show me the back door; I can escape 
that way!’’ 

As if in answer, another bugle sounded on the 
road above; showing another party approaching 
from that side; and by this time the horsemen from 
below were nearly at the house. 

‘^1 am trapped!” he said quietly but bitterly, 
as his hand went instinctively to his pistol, ^‘but 
I will not be captured here!” 

The girl placed restraining hand upon his arm; 
her voice very low, but very clear, as she said: 

^^Major Ravanel, no one can doubt your cour- 
age; but one man can not fight the Yankee army. 
Sometimes strategy is equal to courage. In here 
— quick !” 

As she spoke she turned to the great clock — 
massive and black in the shadow of the hall; dully 
ticking what might be his comrade’s deathwatch 
— and swung wide the great door. 

^^Get in quickly; they are here!” she said again; 
and Mrs. Courtenay moving to the door, whispered : 

^^Obey her! Resistance is folly! Remember 
your country and your mother need you.” 

Without reply he stepped into the dark, coffin- 
like recess; and next instant Val stood statue-like 
by her aunt in the doorway, as a squad of horses 
halted and faced toward the house. Its burly, 
yellow-bearded commander and two aids dis- 


118 


CBAGNEST, 


mounted and ascended the steps; and the former 
gruffly asked, with strong accent: 

^^Vel, who VOS dis house belong to?’^ 

“To me, sir,” Mrs. Courtenay answered with 
stately dignity. 

“Oh— ho! Dat vos so? Vel, den, andt who 
you VOS?” 

“A lady, sir,” the matron answered with em- 
phasis, “as you might learn from many gentlemen 
in either army.” 

“Vel, den, my laty, ve haf got hungry chasen 
ter tarn Shonnies. Ve vandt someding ter eat.” 

“And, first, sir, may I ask whom I have the 
honor to address?” 

“Yah! I haf ter dell you my rang is Macher 
Einvasserschwein, commanting der segund reg- 
mend von Buford’s brigade, andt I be tarn hungry, 
too.” 

For one instant the old gentlewoman hesitated, 
the blood mounting to the roots of the gray coro- 
net, and her slim hand clinching at the coarse 
words. The next, supreme sense of duty to others 
controlled her wrath; and her voice was coldly 
calm as she answered low: 

“Speak lower, please; we have illness in the 
house. It is always with regret that I refuse hos- 
pitality, even to a stranger; but now I can not give 
supper to your men, simply because we have no 
food in the house.” 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


119 


‘^So-o-o! Andt I shall expecdt myselve ter be- 
leeve dot, ain’d’t?” and the man guffawed loudly, 
as he punched his aid in the side, and added: 
“Dat vas foine, don^d’t?’’ 

must insist,” rather testily this time, “that 
you make less noise. My cousin is very ill, and 
waking suddenly might cause death.” 

“So-o-o! Your cousin VOS eel? Andt who vos 
her name?” 

“//e is Colonel and Brigade Commander Wirt 
Calvert of the Confederate Cavalry!” the old lady 
answered, with all the blood of all the Cabbells 
rushing to her face. “He fought you, sir, like a 
brave gentleman, when well. If you are a soldier, 
respect his desperate wound.” 

As she spoke, again the bugle sounded close 
and clear, at the turn of the road above; the tramp 
of a large body of horse coming up to her ear. But 
the German heard it carelessly, knowing the 
friendly call; and he drew a step nearer the ladies, 
as he said: 

“Oh — ho! You haf bin hiting ein vounded 
Shonny, vos et? Haf he bin parole? Tam! Ve 
veel arresdt heem andt take heem along.” 

He placed his hand upon his sword and moved 
as though to enter; but, with swift motion, Val 
Courtenay stepped before her aunt and grasped 
the casing, her long, slim arm barring his way. 

“You shall not enter!” she said in low, distinct 


120 


CRAG'NEST, 


tone. you do not respect this lady’s gray hair, 
you shall respect her home. Three unarmed wo^ 
men are here, nursing a dying soldier. If you be 
a man, respect our sex and sorrow, and call off 
your men!” 

Abashed for the moment, the man drew back 
before the fiery tone of the girl’s whisper; but, 
even as he did so, a slight creaking noise, and a 
dull click caught her ear; and one swift glance 
showed her the old clock door slightly ajar and the 
gleam of the candle caught upon the leveled barrel 
of a pistol, in the darkness behind her. But, even 
at that supreme moment, she lost no coolness; mov- 
ing her free hand before the candle in signal to- 
ward the clock. For, as she spoke, the bugle on 
the road sounded the halt; the hoof beats were 
suddenly still, save those of a detached squad trot- 
ting rapidly toward the house. 

“Tam! Who vos doze?” the German growled, 
turning to descend the step; but the squad was 
upon them, and a stern voice called out of the 
darkness: 

“What troop is this; and who commands it?” 

“Troop K, Second Kegiment Buford’s brigade; 
Major Einvasserschwein in command,” the 
mounted lieutenant replied. 

“Yah! Andt who ter tefil vos you? Some 
pummers don’d it?” the major growled, and plac- 
ing his foot in stirrup. 


BEYOND THE LINES, 


121 


^^General Buford and escort,” was the curt an- 
swer. ^^Mount, sir! before you report!” 

VOS moundedt, sheneral,” the other an- 
swered meekly, clambering into the saddle and 
waving salute in the darkness. 

^What are you doing here, sir; off the line of 
pursuit and without orders?” 

^^Shust picking up some Shonnies, sheneral — ” 

^^And needlessly insulting unprotected ladies, 
General Buford,” broke in Mrs. Courtenay, with 
unusual heat. 

^Why were we not halted and challenged, sir?” 
the general asked sternly. ^^Are these the precau- 
tions proper; at night — in the enemy^s country?” 

‘^Ve haf known dot bukle vos friendts, shen- 
eral,” the other replied, in different tone from that 
he had used to the ladies. 

^^Your ears will not always protect you, sir,” 
the brigade commander replied. ^Take your com- 
mand to regimental headquarters at once; report 
yourself to your colonel under arrest!” 

Promptly the German gave the order — not un- 
sheathing his sword; the troop lieutenant order- 
ing: 

“Platoon! By the left; trot! March!” 

The squadron moved away into the darkness, 
as the tall cavalry leader threw himself from sad- 
dle and muttered under his breath : 

“Curse these political appointments! That 


122 


CRAG-NE8T. 


fellow may be a first-class ward-boss, but Sheridan 
himself could never make him a soldier.” 

^^He was keeping a beer-shop in my town when 
the government honored me by making him my 
lieutenant,” the aid replied, as they turned to- 
ward the steps. 

hope, madam,” the general said, raising his 
hat courteously, ^^that you have suffered no discom- 
fort at the hands of my men.” 

^‘None serious, as yet, sir,” the old lady an- 
swered gravely, ^^but your arrival was most—” she 
hesitated an instant with the word ^Velcome” 
upon her lips; changing to — ^^^opportune, sir.” 

‘‘I am glad for other reasons than duty that I 
fancied some irregularities here, when I heard 
horses in your grounds. You have, perhaps, for- 
gotten my former visit, when I was Major Bu- 
ford?” 

have not, sir,” she answered calmly. ^^Cour- 
tesy like yours then is rare enough among our 
Northern visitors to be remembered. I told you 
truly then, that my kinsman was not beneath my 
roof. He is now here!” 

The PederaPs face, now in the full light, showed 
quick change from grave courtesy to surprised 
alertness. Ere her words were finished, his hand 
had gone to his sword; and he turned as if to give 
some order. But, quick as himself, she inter- 
preted the gesture and added; 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


12S 


is lying very near death, I fear, General 
Buford. He can not harm you now.’’ 

sincerely regret to hear it, madam,” the 
Northern soldier answered promptly. “When we 
broke Early’s right this morning, Colonel Calvert 
rallied a handful of fugitives and turned on my 
brigade in the grandest charge of the day! Can I 
see him, madam? You ladies are alone here; and 
I may be useful to a gallant enemy.” 

As Mrs. Courtenay hesitated, Wythe stepped 
softly from the room and whispered: 

“Cousin Wirt is awake. Aunt Virginia, and 
insists on getting up to see who these men are.” 

“He must not be excited,” the old lady ex- 
claimed. “You had best enter, sir. I am assured 
that you will be gentle with a helpless foe.” 

And with no word more, she stood aside and 
courteously motioned him to proceed. 

Colonel Calvert lay pale, unequal to the effort 
he had made to rise to his elbow. But his eyes 
were clear and bright as they fell upon the tall 
form approaching his bedside; and a sad smile 
moved his mustache as he said feebly: 

“You have got me at last, general, where I can 
neither fight nor run; but the fault is your fellows’, 
not my own.” 

“I am truly sorry. Colonel Calvert,” the younger 
soldier said in low voice. “I trust it is nothing 
serious, sir.” 


124 


CRAG-NEST. 


Again the sick man smiled grimly as he quoted: 

^No, ^tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as 
a church door; but ^tis enough!’ ” 

A spasm of pain shot across his face and, spite 
of iron will, the grim, gray mustache quivered as 
he set his lips. 

^^Has he had surgical aid?” the general queried 
hastily. 

“Yes; on the field,” Val answered impulsively; 
her great, dark eyes fixed piteously upon the 
drawn face. “Without it he would have died upon 
the field. A large artery was severed, the major 
said.” 

“The major the Federal’s eyes caught the 
girl’s an instant, then glanced quickly around the 
room; but she answered calm and unhesitatingly: 

“Yes, the officer who brought him here, and es- 
caped your German compatriot.” 

For sole reply. General Buford turned to Mrs. 
Courtenay and said : 

“I fear Colonel Calvert lacks for skilled treat- 
ment, madam. My headquarters are ordered but 
three miles below. I will send my staff surgeon 
at once.” A grave smile lit his face as he added: 
“We did the damage, perhaps; so it is our place 
to mend it.” 

The colonel’s eyes opened calmly and turned 
upon his visitor, as he said faintly: 

“You are very good, general. I shall be better 


BEYOND THE LINES. 


126 


soon, but I thank you for your consideration for 
my kinswoman.” 

hope, indeed you will,” the Federal an- 
swered cheerily, ^^and you will find Dr. Patterson 
very skillful.” He slipped off his gauntlet and 
took the colonePs right hand in his, letting his 
fingers rest carefully on the pulse as he spoke. 
^We are on the move, but I may find time to call 
again — with your permission and the ladies’.” 

^Thank you, general. Come, if your duty per- 
mits,” the old man answered; and Mrs. Courtenay 
added: 

“If you do. General Buford, you will always 
be — ” again she hesitated an instant — “sure of 
courteous reception.” 

With a bow only he passed to the door, fol- 
lowed by his hostess, who asked anxiously: 

“Is he desperately hurt, sir?” 

“I can not tell, madam,” he answered gravely. 
“He seems seriously hurt, and his pulse is very 
weak. I should advise stimulants and absolute 
quiet. Good-night, madam.” Next moment he 
had mounted and was galloping out at the head of 
his escort. 

Then — listening eagerly to the departing hoofs, 
Val moved quickly to the clock, crying: 

“They are gone! — all of them.” 

Eavanel struck the door open, rather impa- 
tiently, uncocking his pistol and slipping it in the 


126 


CRAG-KEST. 


holster as he did so. Then he looked full into the 
girFs eyes and said; 

^Tt is scarcely a fine part I have played in to- 
night’s scenes, Miss Courtenay; but you have 
placed me under deepest obligation.” 

‘There can be none possible, sir,” the girl an- 
swered quietly, “when a Southern woman aids a 
Southern soldier. I had done — ” 

“As much for any other, chancing here;” he 
broke in hotly; and the girl, raising neither eyes 
nor voice, replied promptly: 

“Assuredly! You are all fighting for us; we 
owe you all equal gratitude. I am glad you obeyed 
my warning. Had you killed that brutal German, 
a hideous scene must have followed, ending surely 
in your death.” 

“And you would have felt — ” he began quickly; 
but — her face still downcast, but fiushing as she 
spoke — the girl as quickly interrupted: 

“Deepest sorrow, sir. At this moment the 
death of every soldier is a loss to the cause — a grief 
to every Southern woman!” 

For a single instant strong feeling glowed upon 
the man’s grave face; with passionate gesture he 
advanced one step, about to speak. But he con- 
trolled the sudden gust of impulse, and the voice 
was quiet and cold as her own, that said: 

“You are right, and your words remind me 
how I neglect my duty. I must find the remnants 


BBTOm) THE LINES. 


127 


of our brigade. God knows who are left — and 
where they are; and I must search for them on 
foot, as your German raider carried off our 
horses.^^ 

^^You can wait for daylight?” she asked; a re- 
lenting in the tone. 

“Impossible, Miss Courtenay!” He was en- 
tirely himself again; self-contained and speaking 
in his low voice. “In a tramp after the rout — for 
now it seems to have been such — night is safer 
than day, even were time not precious. I know 
every foot of this country.” 

“Oh! If you had a horse!” The girl spoke im- 
pulsively; but he answered with a quiet smile: 

“It will be my own fault if I do not by daylight. 
So, good-bye. Miss Courtenay; and believe I will 
not forget your saving me from capture like a 
straggler or deserter!” 

A careful footfall sounded across the field and 
the soldier’s hand went quickly to his holster, as 
a familiar voice called softly: 

“Ez dey all gone, missy?” 

“Yes, Ziek; all are gone. Did they trouble 
you at the barn?” 

“I hasn’t been at th’ barn,” the black answered, 
advancing with a chuckle. “Wen I yeered da 
Yankee gentlemans a-comin’, I tuk ter da woods.” 

“It was just as well,” Ravanel answered. “You 
could not have saved the horses.” 


128 


CBAO-ITEST. 


dunno,’^ Ezekiel answered quietly. '^Bofe 
da bosses tuk ter da woods wid me!” 

^^You brave, smart old fellow!” Ravanel cried 
in delight. Then he turned to the girl, his face 
glowing: ^What do I not owe to Crag-Nest? 
Certainty of escape, added to safety from dis- 
honor!” 

But Val Courtenay — in revulsion from anxiety 
— was ice again once more; and it was the cold, 
reserved voice that answered slowly: 

“Safety from dishonor — should be paramount 
with every Southern soldier!” 


HOME, FAREWELU 


129 


CHAPTER XI. 

HOME, FAREWELL. 

Ten days succeeding the Opequon disaster 
dragged slowly to the inmates of Crag-Nest. Yet 
they were far from idle. 

True to his promise, General Buford had sent 
his brigade surgeon over by dawn; and Dr. Pat- 
terson^s careful examination of the colonePs 
wounded thigh gave the ladies much hope, yet 
not unmixed with serious anxiety. The ball had 
plowed through, tearing the artery; and the doc- 
tor’s verdict was that the hasty ligation might 
produce inflammation, and possibly sloughing. 

^^He has reacted wonderfully, madam,” he said 
to Mrs. Courtenay, after the diagnosis. ‘^His pulse 
is strong, there is no fever; and, better still, no 
sort of fear. He seems to have great constitution 
and to be in perfect health; but the greatest pos- 
sible care must be taken to keep him quiet. All 
old soldiers — especially commanders — are hard to 
control; but Colonel Calvert is so courtly a gentle- 
man that I expect from him implicit obedience to 
you and his gentle young nurses.” 

“You and General Buford, sir, have put our 
household under grave compliment,” the old lady 

9 


130 


CBAO^NE8T, 


said with stately courtesy. “Were all who wear 
your uniform like you, this terrible war might be 
a very different one.” 

“I am more than glad to have been of use,” the 
surgeon replied, quietly ignoring her comment. “I 
hope I may be able to see him again before we 
move, but at the rate the enemy is retreating, I 
may be far out of reach to-night.” 

“Are there any special directions to leave, doc- 
tor?” Val inquired in her thoughtful way. 

“None, miss. Generous nourishment, necessary 
stimulant when the pulse goes down, and the band- 
age constantly wet with the lotion I left. Only 
these, and above them all, absolute quiet and per- 
fect rest for the limb. And now, ladies, I must 
say good-night,” and with a bow, the surgeon sig- 
naled the sergeant and his escort and was about 
to mount when he paused and turned back. “By 
the way, Mrs. Courtenay,” he said, “you are now 
behind our lines; and, I hope, likely to continue so. 
In this, however, you are not likely to agree with 
me; and, should you wish to move, you will need 
permit.” He took out his note-book and wrote 
rapidly, then reading aloud: 

“Mrs. Courtenay, of Crag-Nest, with two ladies 
and a wounded officer, Colonel Wirt Calvert, have 
permission to pass all posts and pickets of the U. S. 
Army between their home and the Confederate 
line. Paroled this 20th Sept, 1863. By order 


SOME, FAREWELL, 


131 


Brig.-Gen’l Buford, Commanding — th Cavalry 
Brigade. 

“Patterson, Lt.-Col. Brig. Surgeon.” 

As he finished, he tore the slip from his book, 
tendering it to Mrs. Courtenay; but the old lady 
hesitated, drawing herself up to full height, as she 
replied: 

“But, sir, we have given no parole.” 

“That is not vital,” he replied with a smile. “I 
will accept it as constructive. You ladies do not 
form a very dangerous body; and the general, of 
course, paroled Colonel Calvert.” 

Never, to her own knowledge, had Mrs. Courte- 
nay wavered from the direct path of strictest ve- 
racity; and, in her code of ethics, the suppression 
of truth was the meanest suggestion of falsehood. 
But the freedom of her kinsman — the comfort, if 
not the safety, of her girls — were too great prizes 
to be thrown away; so, taking the paper quietly, 
she slipped it into the bosom of her dress, even as 
she replied: 

“My cousin^s parole will have to be ^construc- 
tive’ also. General Buford, sir, made not the re- 
motest allusion to it.” 

The surgeon smiled quietly, as he answered: 

“You are a diplomatiste, madam, and I am too 
old a soldier to attempt correction of my com- 
mander. Keep the paper. It can do the flag no 


132 


CBAG’NEST. 


harm, and may be useful to you. And now, ladies, 
good-night.” 

He rode away too rapidly to overhear the old 
lady^s comment: 

^^That Yankee is a perfect gentleman, Val; and 
I really believe that I should have been tempted 
to offer him a glass of wine if — we had one in the 
house.” 

From that night the colonel was a model pa- 
tient; obeying implicitly every direction of his 
gentle nurses, and gaining strength, and his old- 
time cheerfulness, under their tender ministra- 
tions. Iron constitution and great will power 
aided these; and a week^s time found the veteran 
apparently well on the road to recovery. But 
meantime many visitors had wandered to Crag- 
Nest; some mounted, but the majority on foot; a 
few of them bearing honorable passport of recent 
wounds. These last received welcome and care 
from the lady of the house. But the majority of 
visitors were stragglers and skulkers from either 
army — those miserable god-fathers of the modern 
tramp. And these received small consideration, 
but always a strong lecture from the staunch old 
matron, though none of them — if really foot-sore 
and hungry — were turned away without a crust 
from the fast lessening stores at Crag-Nest. And 
the latter could not now be replenished, with com- 
munications wholly cut off, and nothing with 


HOME, FAREWELL. 


183 


which to purchase from the enemy but Confederate 
money. So Ezekiel proved himself — in addition to 
other valuable accomplishments — a most success- 
ful forager; corn and fruit from the ungathered 
crop often filling his sack, and occasional honnes 
touches of bacon and canned meats from some dis- 
tant Yankee camp. These last the girls received 
and served without question; certain that the head 
of the house would have forbidden further foray 
had she suspected their source, or one tithe of the 
romance necessary to procure them for the suffer- 
ing but eloquent man and brother. Meanwhile, 
only ^^rumors of wars,” vague and unreliable, 
floated in to the cut-off household; but Federal 
bummer and Confederate straggler alike agreed 
that Early had reorganized his beaten army, and 
that Sheridan was massing for a still heavier and 
more decisive blow. From Crag-Nest, the only 
pickets, patrols and massed bodies of moving 
troops now seen were uniformed in blue; and its 
women felt, more than ever before, their absolute 
isolation. They were, indeed, cut off ; and that at 
a time when supplies and minor luxuries were 
more than ever missed, and when medical skill 
might become a vital need at any moment. And 
when a week passed by, the quiet of the mending 
invalid began to give way to frequent, and some- 
times fretful, queries about household needs; but 
more especially about the movement of the armies. 


134 


CBAO-NS8T. 


And at last, the iteration of the formula, ^^No re- 
liable news,” began to seem to his impatience only 
the suppression of disastrous tidings. He grew 
more fretful under imposed restraint; insisted that 
he was much better, and taxed equally the pa- 
tience and the resolution of his faithful nurses, in 
carrying out the surgeon^s strong injunction for 
his absolute quiet. 

Then, suddenly through the oppressive but 
ominous silence in the Valley, broke the dread 
echo of that order for destruction, which sounded 
to the very foundations of civilization; hearing 
which, the Southern Rachel sat by her desolated 
hearth, groaning in her soul: ^^Ye have made it a 
desert!” even while she might not add: ‘‘And 
have called it peace.” 

Sheridan’s order — carrying out the ideas of 
Lieut.-General Grant — had gone out to destroy all 
subsistence in the Valley; wheat, corn and stock. 
Its carrying out had been entrusted to no unwill- 
ing hands; and now vast tracts, lately teeming 
with ungarnered grain, stretched black and bare; 
while smouldering rafters of mill and barn still 
sent their curling protests upward against “Man’s 
inhumanity to man.” All four-footed things were 
driven from already depleted farms; and, where 
not fit for army use, were slaughtered to prevent 
all usufruct to the stubborn defenders of “Lee’s 
granary.” For the fiat had gone forth inexorable 
— only to be inexorably observed: 


HOME, FAREWELL, 


185 


^^Death is popularly considered the maximum 
punishment in war, but it is not; reduction to pov- 
erty brings prayers for peace more surely and more 
quickly than does the destruction of human life, 
as the selfishness of man has demonstrated in more 
than one great confiict.”* 

And now EzekiePs foraging was light, while 
his budget of black tidings was heavy indeed; and, 
like the ancient, he brought in the latter ever be- 
fore him, while the former’s depleted weight hung 
behind, woefully light. And — emboldened by im- 
munity from check, from Early’s still disorganized 
command — the black riders of Destruction waxed 
as bold as fat; and day or night; 

“The tramp — the tramp of iron hoofs, 

With mutter hoarse, 

Comes on, with flames of burning roof* 

To mark its course. 

Far in the distance seen at first. 

The dwellings light ; 

But, one by one, they nearer burst 
Upon the sight; 

And all along that valley fair, 

The homeless shriekings of despair 
Come throbbing upward thro’ the air 
Of pitying night I 

“ And riding, trooping rank on rank. 

With jingling spur and sabre clank. 

The men who bear that order stern . 

Have come to desolate and burn. 

O God I May never more return 

A lot so hard to bear I” 


■•‘General Sheridan’s own words. 


186 


CRAG^NEST. 


And now, at last, the resources of the brave 
women about the sick man’s couch had come to 
their meagrest point. Stimulants were exhausted; 
nourishing food was not to be had, and the dail^^ 
needs of all were filled by green corn and parched- 
potato ^^coffee”; the fast lessening meal and flour 
being kept sacred for the sick man. And, only 
then, the council of three decided that movement 
— or its alternative, starvation — stared at them 
as an absolute certainty. 

To decide was to act, for the mistress of Crag- 
Nest. Very calmly she told her patient of so much 
of the situation as was necessary; that the home 
resources no longer availed them or him; and 
showed him General Buford’s order for their 
safety. This had stood them in good stead on 
more than one occasion of raid or other visit; and 
the immediate grounds of the home stood almost 
solitary in immunity. Even Selim had been 
spared the usual fate of worthless mules; and Eze- 
kiel had carefully cached the colonel’s tall but 
now lank steed deep in the woods, away from any 
path. 

Told the situation, the veteran bit his mustache 
and knotted his brows awhile, in deep thought. 
Then his face cleared up and he said, much in his 
old manner: 

^The order is a hard and cruel one. Cousin Vir- 

ginia; it is barbarity, not war. That, as I take it. 


HOMB, FAREWELL. 


137 


should be conducted much as a duel between gen- 
tlemen; and this is the shop-keeper’s notion of war. 
It will cripple us still more, but, as I told you some- 
time ago, thinkers in the army — from General Lee 
down — have begun to consider the war a question 
of time, not one of result. If truly there can be 
but one ending, perhaps the sooner we reach it the 
better for humanity and the future. Zounds! 
Sheridan is helping us to solve the problem. But 
now for the home department,” his rare smile of 
other days lit his drawn face. ^^You dear ladies 
have suffered more than you tell me for my sake. 
That must cease. Why, I am nearly myself again ; 
see!” he clinched his hand, raising his arm with 
some vigor, as he rose to the other elbow. 

‘^Cousin Wirt,” exclaimed Val, ^^how dare you? 
And what sort of a soldier are you, to disobey or- 
ders like that?” 

^^But, my dear child, one must creep before he 
walks. If you fair tyrants keep me on my back, 
how will I get strength to ride as your escort into 
our lines?” 

The girl smiled sadly at him, as she strove to 
answer cheerily: 

^^The best soldiers obey, without question; but 
I will tell you that everything is arranged. To- 
morrow we can start.” 

^^Yes, Cousin Wirt,” Wythe cried, overhearing 
as she entered with some corn bread of her own 


138 


CRAG-NBBT. 


make. am to ride your horse and Val will drive 
you and Aunt Virginia in the phaeton, until we 
reach our lines and borrow an ambulance.” 

Mrs. Courtenay, standing with pale, sad face, 
moved her lips as though about to speak; but they 
only moved soundlessly and she turned quickly 
away, passing slowly from the room. Quietly, but 
equally quickly, Val followed, slipping her arm 
within her aunt^s and pressing her hand in silent 
token of sympathy. 

^Well, my fair little martinet,” they heard the 
colonel say, “I will obey unquestioning. I have 
given you my parole. But, zounds! That paper,” 
he added suddenly. can not use it. I never 
gave the Yankee my parole.” 

^Why, no! How could you?” the little diplo- 
matiste answered. ‘^He never asked it. You can 
use it, as he said, ^constructively^; and you will not 
refuse, when it is for our safety.” 

For sole reply the veteran tugged slowly at his 
mustache. Then he ate his simple lunch thought- 
fully, and gallantly kissed the white little hand 
that reached for the empty plate. 

Next noon a negro parson of much reputed 
sanctity, and more than suspected of being em- 
ployed as a Federal spy, visited Ezekiel by agree- 
ment. That faithful servitor had promised to use 
the parson in a lay capacity; and, with his assist- 
ance, Colonel Calvert— -though stoutly protesting 


HOME, FAREWELL. 


189 


his perfect ability to walk — was lifted bodily from 
his couch to the folded comforter laid entirely 
across the left side of the old phaeton. Adieux 
were spoken, as on that previous preparation for 
flight from the Land of Bondage; but this time the 
mistress broke down completely, and past the 
power of speech, when the old negro and his wife 
kissed her hands, sobbing like little children. 
Without a word — but with one, long, lingering, 
piteous look up at her life-long home, she took her 
seat beside her kinsman; Val taking the reins 
above the worn old mule. Then the old negro 
carefully lifted Wythe to VaPs old side-saddle; 
strange-seeming to the fretful war horse. 

“Good-bye, faithful old Ezekiel the colonel 
cried suddenly. “We will never forget your care of 
the ladies. Give me your hand, sir! I have taken 
a prince’s with less pleasure. Zounds! sir, if you 
are black, you are a perfect gentleman!” 

It was over. The home tie was broken at last; 
and driving slowly and carefully, Val passed into 
the road, leaving Crag-Nest behind. But not one 
word was spoken; and neither head was turned 
for a last, longed-for look. 


140 


CRAO^NEST, 


CHAPTER XII. 

HOW BLOOD TOLD. 

The drive was necessarily slow, and it was late 
afternoon when they reached the first Federal 
picket. Its officer received them gruffly enough 
at first; but his manner changed on the presenta- 
tion of their permit. 

‘^And you are the rebel officer, sir?’^ he asked 
the colonel. 

am Colonel Calvert, of the Confederate Army, 
sir,^^ the colonel answered, as feebly as testily. The 
strain of the long drive had told upon him; and 
Yal, quietly reaching her hand to his, found it dry 
and feverish. 

“Is there a camp beyond on this road, sir?” she 
queried quietly of the Federal. 

“Yes, miss; ten or twelve mile, I guess. Two 
squadrons of Buford’s Brigade camp there with 
his hospital train.” 

“Do you know the surgeon in charge?” the girl 
again asked quickly. 

“Old Patterson, I guess,” the man answered 
carelessly, “and all the staff. They say the whole 
army is falling back on — ” he checked himself sud- 
denly, adding: “All right, colonel, you can pro- 
ceed; your parole is all right.’’ 


HOW BLOOD TOLD. 


141 


The old gentleman’s face flushed and he seemed 
about to speak, but controlled himself until they 
moved forward. Then he exclaimed testily: 

^^Confound that paper! For the first time in 
my life, Cousin Virginia, I seem to be sailing under 
false colors. I gave no parole, and these insolent 
rascals insist I have.” 

^‘But Cousin Wirt, it was merely written con- 
structively.” 

^^Zounds! Madam,” he answered, half rising 
to his elbow, ^^a parole is delicate point of honor; 
and in such all must be direct and clear. I brought 
my sword from the field, buckled about me. Ever 
since it has laid under my coverlid. It is wrapped 
in these comforters now. And, zounds! none of 
these hireling gentlemen ever asked me for it when 
I could draw it! Why, I refused to surrender 
when Eavanel urged necessity, after the fellow 
leaped from his horse in a hail of fire to prevent my 
falling from mine! Zounds! Madam, would I let 
my comrade walk through shot and shell to carry 
me out of their reach when I was bleeding to 
death, only to surrender now that I am well?” 

As his French friends would have said, the vet- 
eran was a cheval now; and he raised to his elbow 
with vigorous gesture of his free hand. Mrs. 
Courtenay did not reply. She only beat up his 
pillow more comfortably as — the unnatural 
strength of excitement passing — he fell back upon 


142 


CRAG-NE8T. 


it. But his mind still ran upon the subject, and 
presently he said : 

^^Cousin Virginia, I have determined what I 
will do. If General Buford, or any officer of my 
own rank, is at this camp I will explain this busi- 
ness and set this thing straight.” 

^^As you please, cousin,” the old lady answered 
quietly, ^^but I see no necessity; they will ask no 
questions.” 

‘^Zounds! Madam, I care nothing for their 
questions! My own self-respect as an officer and 
a gentleman has been asking questions ever since 
I heard of this farce!” he cried; and Val, turning 
at his unwarranted vehemence, noted that a deep 
flush was on his forehead and cheeks and a restless 
movement in his eyes. Plainly the fatigue and 
heat after his long rest had fevered the wounded 
man; and the quick glance the women exchanged 
showed that both recognized it. But he was silent 
now, save for broken exclamations, as he dozed lit- 
fully, but woke at every unusual jolt of the old 
vehicle. Sunset fell when the picket had been left 
only about six miles, and its afterglow was fading 
into dull gray as they passed the next rise. 

Colonel Calvert suddenly uttered a sharp ex- 
clamation of pain, followed by a deep, long gasp; 
and both women, turning to him, saw his face 
deadly pale, but drawn with suffering, and great 
beads of sweat standing upon his brow. 


now BLOOD TOLD. 


143 


^^Oh! How careless I am!” Val cried, seizing 
the bottle of lotion and throwing back the light 
covering from the leg on the improvised litter, 
stretching beyond the front seat on her left. 
have neglected to moisten his bandage and its pres- 
sure pains him.” 

But her own face grew paler than his, as a 
glance showed her the tight cloths, not dry, but 
soaked with deep red blood, already beginning to 
ooze through and drip slowly upon the cushion. 
But the good old Virginian blood that had de- 
serted the girPs cheeks had not fled from her brave 
heart; and, crying to the mule, she dropped the 
reins and resolutely grasped the bleeding limb 
with both hands. Passing the left beneath to raise 
it gently, she felt along above the bandage with 
her right hand, and pressed it Arm and strong upon 
the course of the great artery. Then, even before 
Mrs. Courtenay could speak, she cried sharply: 

^ Wythe! Bide for your life: The hospital 
camp must be near — straight ahead! Bring a sur- 
geon! Quick!” 

“What is it?” Wythe asked; open-eyed at the 
tone, as she urged the restive war-horse close to 
the mule. 

“The artery! Tell him to bring tourniquet and 
silk!” Val whispered rapidly, but never turning 
her head. “Ride fast! ’Tis life or death.” 

With her words, the younger girl struck her 


144 


CRAONEBT. 


horse sharply with the switch; he bounded away 
at full gallop and passed beyond sight in the fad- 
ing twilight, his rider’s light form swaying to his 
fierce stride. 

^^Don’t trouble — oh-h! You can do — noth- 
ing!” the sick soldier murmured faintly, as another 
fluttering spasm passed his face. But he bit his 
mustache grimly and took a deep breath, as Mrs. 
Courtenay bathed his forehead and said gently: 

^^Cheer up. Cousin Wirt! Your horse is fresh 
and she will be back soon. It is only a trifle.” 

What might have been a smile quivered the 
gray hairs, as his teeth released them; and he an- 
swered in half gasps; 

^^Trifles make up — the sum of life — or death I 
Don’t trouble — Val — brave — ” 

Again his eyes closed, as his voice died away in 
a long sigh; and the matron felt his brow cold and 
clammy. 

But Val Courtenay heard the lessening thud of 
rapid hoofs die away, with a feeling of despairing 
desolation weighing on brain and heart. How far 
it was to the camp she could only guess; some miles 
at least; and the crimson ooze was slowly spread- 
ing over her upper hand, warm and sticky; while 
it sent great, thick drops trickling upon her lower 
arm. And with dull, sickening sense she felt her 
left hand suddenly cramp and the muscles of both 
arms quiver; and her brain reeled with rapid con- 
jecture of the horse’s speed and the lead-like min 


ROW BLOOD TOLD. 


US 


utes that must pass before succor could arrive. 
With the thought, she grew dizzy and her eyes 
closed one instant. The next, she braced herself, 
body and mind; and, tightening her grasp and 
pressure, the girl gradually turned herself around; 
kneeling on the footboard to face her patient and 
giving the muscles of her back and arms, at the 
same time, rest and fuller strength. 

And still the cruel, red stream oozed slowly 
through the bandage, creeping up toward her 
elbow and dropping heavy and dull upon the rug 
below; and she felt the artery jump and throb 
beneath her other hand, as though struggling to be 
free and jet out, at one gush, the dearly-prized 
life for which she fought. Not one word escaped 
her tightly pressed lips and clinched teeth. Her 
quick intuition told her she had grappled with a 
force beyond her strength; that, in the death strug- 
gle with it she must husband every jot of nerve and 
muscle and will; and — with that calmness which 
comes to rare natures in the presence of deadly 
peril — she closed her eyes and forced back calcula- 
tion of distance and horse’s speed, lest thought 
even might drain the strength so sorely needed. 

But her aunt, pale and trembling, softly bathed 
the now cold forehead — passing an old-time vin- 
aigrette before the quivering nostrils, as she 
whispered : 

^^Are you easy, my cousin?” 


10 


146 


CBAO-IfmT. 


For only answer came a long, shuddering sigh; 
but the veteran lay still and calm, as the hand the 
old lady had taken fell limp and nerveless beside 
him, its pulse barely a thin, flickering thread. But 
Yal felt the artery beneath her hand still pumping 
piston-like and flerce with every beat of the true 
old heart; and she pressed down firmer still and 
braced her heels against the dashboard, as racking 
pain began to pass up both arms and into her 
shoulders. 

Suddenly the colonel shivered; then drew a 
deep, quivering breath, holding it with effort as 
he faltered faintly: 

^^Don’t, child — ^thanks — ^trouble — all over soon 
now — 

Again he was still, as the fast fading dusk 
deepened into night; and Val — opening her eyes 
an instant — could scarce distinguish the dim out- 
line of her aunt, bending above the sufferer in the 
phaeton’s shadow. And velvet-shod, but leaden- 
footed, the minutes dragged themselves along; the 
two brave women holding their fearful vigil in 
that thick darkness, unrelieved by even one ray of 
hope. For, though neither spoke, each felt the 
other knew how slender the thread on which that 
precious life was hanging — the pressure of one 
finger of a weak girl’s hand! 

Then suddenly the matron whispered, calmly 
and low out of the darkness: 


ROW BLOOD TOLD. 


147 


^^Val! he has fainted!” 

Still the girl did not speak. Her jaws seemed 
locked, her lips glued together; a hideous, racking 
flame shooting from her arms, shrinking her 
shoulders and searing her very spine! A dull 
roaring as of distant surf boomed in her ears and 
throbbed upon her brain. But the marvelous 
strength of will beat down body and brain, before 
the inexorable need to bend all power of both to 
that terrible pressure on the artery. 

More minutes passed. At length the cold, 
shivering dread crept about her heart; beating 
down all barriers of will and sense and duty to let 
in the hideous fact. She could not hold out much 
longer. Minutes seemed hours; and the searing 
fire in her arms and spine scorched with agony 
not long to be endured. Clammy moisture 
thickened on her brow, trickling over her cold face 
and — as she knew, shudderingly — sapping her 
strength still more. Louder and faster boomed 
the surf-sounds on her brain; her throat grew 
parched and seemed to close; the moisture from 
her wet hair dropping as from storm-soaked leaves. 
Thought, quickened by dread, shrieked at her from 
within that she was human — weak — ^must fail! 
Keeping time with the now lessening throbs of 
the artery, each thump of her laboring heart 
seemed to jump into her throat, choking and sick- 
ening; and she grew dizzy as she saw — through 


148 


CMAG-NE8T. 


her closed lids — her own grip relax and great 
dazzling spurts of crimson flash by her eyes, bear- 
ing in them the remnants of life still left to him! 

But the grip of her hands — spasmodic and 
mechanical now — closed upon the bleeding thigh 
until they buried themselves in the Arm muscles. 
But — through it all the pure woman’s soul never 
once lifted itself to the Throne’s foot in supplica- 
tion. It was a grim death-grapple of nerve and 
muscle only with death. She dared not turn one 
thought away, for one brief second, from that 
fierce, relentless pressure. 

She had no time to pray! 

Ages — aeons of ages — bore down upon her 
through that darkness; numbing brain and heart 
and soul — 

“ How long, O Lord! How long? ” 

Then, through the black silence crashed a 
sound. Horses’ hoofs, at a mad gallop, struck the 
road above. Nearer they came, clattering along- 
side; lanterns swinging high above their riders. 

^^Here we are! Quick, Martin; the tourniquet!” 
Surgeon Patterson cried, throwing his horse upon 
his haunches and swinging from saddle. ^^That’s 
right; fill that hypodermic, Johnson! Here, 
Martin, hold my case and get a suture! Hold the 
lantern, madam!” 

As he spoke, the surgeon had thrown back the 


HOW BLOOD TOLD. 


149 


phaeton^s folding top, swung his lantern over the 
coloneFs pallid face and placed firm finger on his 
pulse. Mrs. Courtenay, deadly pale and breathing 
laboriously, took the lamp from his hand, as she 
gasped: 

^‘Is he dead?’^ 

^^Bosh! Good as two dead men! Close shave 
though. Why, miss — 

He never finished the sentence. Val Courte- 
nay opened her eyes one second. The next she had 
fallen stark and cold across the wheel; only the 
burly surgeon’s quick motion saving its striking 
her head. 

^‘Lay her on the grass, Johnson! Head low. 
Quick here! No time to lose. This is a flood!” 

He had turned to the colonel again; passing a 
keen knife under the bandage as he spoke. Its 
pressure removed, the jetting blood spun high 
above his head in ruby spray. Next instant the 
tourniquet was around the thigh; the knife was 
through the lips of the wound; and the forceps had 
gripped the ruptured edges of the artery. 

^^Ah! That’s it; now the silk, Martin. Move, 
Johnson! Yes, the hypodermic; in his left side — 
quick! There we are! and a d — d close shave!” 

Ten minutes later an ambulance clattered up; 
strong arms lifted the wounded man and laid him 
gently on the wide mattress. Then the surgeon 
turned courteously to the ladies— no longer the 


150 


CRAQ-NBaT. 


field-surgeon; the mechanical life-saving automa- 
ton: 

dear Mrs. Courtenay, have no fear. Bu- 
ford prepared this trap for his own use; so you 
may be sure it is comfortable. He will be as safe 
and easy there as under your own roof. By the 
way, , Martin, is there anything in the locker? 
These ladies probably have not supped. As for 
you. Miss Courtenay” — he turned to Val, gently 
taking her hand and pressing the pulse: — ^^Um! 
You must take another little nip of that toddy I 
gave you just now. Don’t be alarmed; this is not 
army brandy, but from my own cellar.” 

As he spoke he poured a portion in a graduated 
glass, dropping some aromatic tincture from a 
phial: ^^Take that, please! Thank you. And per- 
mit me to say, miss, that I am pretty well accus- 
tomed to bravery; but you are — a hero!” 

The girl’s pale face did not change at the words; 
but her dark eyes gleamed eagerly in the lamp- 
light, as she asked: 

^‘Have you saved him?” 

^^No, miss; emphatically I have not. I have 
eased him and prevented bad results, I believe. 
But I am sure — you saved him!” 

With courteous kindliness he assisted the 
ladies into the ambulance, passing in a lantern, as 
he said: 

‘‘No, madam; do not fan him. For a man with 


HOW BLOOD TOLD. 


ISl 


that little blood, the night air is cool enough. Miss 
Courtenay, wet his lips with this frequently; if he 
swallows some it will not kill him, eh?’’ 

^^Oh! sir,” Val suddenly cried, ‘Vhere is my 
little cousin?” 

^^Where you will be presently, I hope,” he an- 
swered smiling. ^^In bed in my tent, in charge 
of a Ked Cross nurse. The brave little lady in- 
sisted on piloting me; but I knew speed was es- 
sential, and she has had ride enough for one night 
on that mastodon of the colonel’s. Now, ladies, 
we must move. He is all right, for the present; 
and I will ride by your side. Make yourselves at 
home. This ambulance is yours, until you reach 
Keb — Confederate lines; and — if Gordon will 
countersign that pass I gave — until you reach the 
Richmond railroad!” 


162 


CRAQ^NEBT. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A morning's misadventures. 

Once more the war-dogs are in leash across 
the devoted Valley; tugging fiercely at restraint 
and equally eager for the death-grapple. 

Time, that stays for no man, has swept warm 
September aside, and the mellow days of mid-Oc- 
tober are basking down upon old Three Top Moun- 
tain, where Early has his signal station. That 
grim old Confederate has massed his troops below 
and northward; stretching away his advanced line 
almost to Cedar Creek, where General Wright 
holds the further bank with Sheridan^s advance. 
For, after his victory on the Opequon, the Federal 
general had struck but once in force — at Fisher's 
Hill; and Rosser's disaster at Tom's Run — deris- 
ively dubbed the ^Woodstock Races" by the vic- 
tors — was merely an exaggerated skirmish be- 
tween the now admirable cavalry of the enemy 
and the demoralized and half-dismounted squad- 
rons of the South. 

Why his victory-flushed army — reinforced and 
splendidly equipped — had not been pushed for- 
ward before his own shattered columns could be 
reorganizsed and strengthened, the Confederate 


A MORNING'S MISADVENTURES. 


163 


could only wonder. He did not comprehend the 
vast power of the political upon the military situ- 
ation, beyond the Potomac; or that popular clamor 
was loud, at the North, against Lee^s long resist- 
ance to Grant^s sledge-hammer blows against the 
very back door to Kichmond. And that fighter — 
as well as Mr. Lincoln and Secretary Stanton — 
persistently warned ^^Little Phil” that his next 
blow must not be to maim, but to destroy. 

The southern situation, still more grave, held 
the protection of the Valley — equally the granary 
and transportation line, as the bulwark against 
that advance on Lee — to mean the salvation of 
the Confederate capital. 

Early — reinforced by fresh troops, and given 
full time to reorganize his beaten veterans — was 
now in better condition for defense, or aggression, 
than at any moment since his Opequon defeat. 
The spirit of his tattered and half-starved men 
was better also; new levies, equally with old sol- 
diers of Jackson’s Valley wars — being eager to be 
loosed upon their successful and arrogant enemy. 

During the lull, however, frequent heavy skir- 
mishes had taken place between the cavalry, feel- 
ing each other’s lines; some of them obstinate and 
bloody, but all resultless upon the suspenseful sit- 
uation, until the 13th of October. That day, Ker- 
shaw’s tough old division struck Torbert’s at 
Hupp’s Hill, driving it in demoralized retreat, and 


164 


CRAG-NmT. 


leaving General Wright in anxious seat at Cedar 
Creek. 

The opportunity had come at last; and, only the 
third dawn, Confederate signal flags on Three Top 
flapped out that historic dispatch to Early: 

^^Be ready to move as soon as I join you, and w^e 
will crush Sheridan. Longstreet, Lieutenant- 
General.’^ 

But other eyes than those meant saw the flags; 
the spy-stolen code gave its purport to Wright, 
and the best mounted courier was soon bearing it 
to Sheridan, at Front Royal. But Early was igno- 
rant of this; and equally of the fact that Sheridan 
— sending all cavalry but his escort to Wright, and 
confident that Longstreet could not make his com- 
bination before his return — was speeding away to 
Washington for a conference with Mr. Lincoln and 
the war secretary. 

In war, as in love, “trifles light as air, are con- 
firmation strong”; and the Federal general rode 
away, while his grim opponent pushed forward. 

So it fell out that, at dawn two days later, a 
scouting column trotted briskly out of a by-road, 
on to the Valley pike. At its head rode Fraser 
Ravanel; three stars upon his collar now. For his 
delay at Crag-Nest, when Ziek saved his horse, 
had proved a blessing in disguise, and he had been 
just in time to cut off the fugitives of his own brig- 
ade that night. Massing them with some of Cal- 


A MOBNINQm MISADVENTURES. 166 

vert’s cooler veterans, and ably aided by Rob 
Maury, be had turned them upon the over-confi- 
dent pursuit; first checking, then driving it back 
down the same road, broken and demoralized. 
This service had won his transfer and promotion 
to lieutenant-colonel of Calvert’s old corps, and his 
signal gallantry at Fisher’s Hill — when his colonel 
fell and he held Merritt off Early’s rear for hours — 
added the third star. 

By Colonel Ravanel’s side rode Rob Maury; his 
collar, too, decorated with an extra bar, for the 
youth’s good service had gained his step, and he 
was now captain and adjutant of his brigade. 

am glad we heard from the old colonel, yes- 
terday,” he was saying, as they trotted on. ‘^By 
George! What a constitution he has, to rally so, 
after such a bleeding! They were lucky to get 
through the very night before Fisher’s Hill. And 
isn’t Val a real heroine, colonel, to act as she did?” 

^^Your cousin is a brave woman,” the senior 
answered gravely. 

^^She’s one woman in a thousand,” the other 
stated warmly. “If the Confederacy holds an- 
other like her, and she’s young enough. I’ll lay my 
captaincy at her feet, for better or worse. By the 
way, colonel, didn’t I understand her to say that 
you two had met in Richmond?” 

“Yes, three years ago, at Judge Brooke’s,” was 
the quiet answer. “But we are nearing the enemy, 


156 


CRAG-NEST. 


sir; and they must be close enough to keep our 
eyes open. Close up the squad and warn the offi- 
cers 

Eob rode rearward on that duty; soon return- 
ing and riding again beside his commander, as 
they turned a curve of the mountain road; descend- 
ing to more level country — black and burned, with 
no obstruction to the view, but muddy and heavy 
from recent rain. 

^^LookP he cried suddenly, pointing to a dis- 
tant cabin across fields and far beyond clear view. 

“A Yankee trooper’s horse, I judge, from the 
covered saddle,” Colonel Kavanel answered, low- 
ering his field glass. can not make him out 
plainly, but — his rider would not be alone.” 

‘^Unless a scout, sir!” Eob exclaimed eagerly. 
^‘He’s a find, anyway. Let me cut him out!” 

A nod was the reply, and the adjutant — quickly 
choosing four men of the best mounted — spurred 
at the fragment of fence, the five taking it almost 
together, but a tall gray landing just ahead of 
VaPs pet sorrel. 

Next instant Captain Eobert Maury was stone- 
blind, the morning breeze whistling by his ears, 
but sound his only guide, as heavy hoofs slumped 
on before and behind him. The field was of rough 
furrows, changed to mud by the late rain; and the 
gray’s heels had hurled two goodly portions of it 
full into the open eyes of the squad commander. 


A MORNINQ’^S MISADVENTURES. 167 

Blinded completely — but feeling increased stride 
of his own ambitious horse, on seeing the gray pass 
— Kob clung with knee and only steadied his sor- 
rel, soothing him by voice and hand. On they 
rushed, splashing and floundering here; increas- 
ing speed again, as sounder footing offered. And 
Eob — fuming inwardly, but too proud to order 
slackened speed — heard another horse close be- 
hind. Then his own took a ditch in his stride, 
speeding away again ; and, suddenly he seemed to 
mount into the air to tremendous height — to skim 
across space for many seconds; then to light again 
and rush onward with a cheery snort. In inky 
darkness, the rider clung with knee and thigh; but 
— not knowing what might be before him — he 
dared not loose the rein; and his wrinkled old 
gauntlet only smeared the clay more closely over 
his smarting optics, as his right hand essayed to 
clear them. 

Then — after what seemed to him many miles of 
furious rush, broken ever and anon by sudden 
leaps — a voice ahead cried: 

^Ware fence! She’s stiff!” 

Eob’s right gauntlet was between his teeth, 
and he quickly drew away his free hand, at the 
same moment loosing the rein and throwing the 
mud from his eyes with a snap of both hands. 
Dimly, he saw the rail fence — uninjured there — 
rise stiff and high, ten yards away, barely in time 


168 


ORAO-mUST. 


to grasp the rein and lift the panting horse to the 
leap. 

And on the other side stood the negro cabin, 
the coveted prize hitched before it, still and quiet. 
Already the gray^s rider had reined up and slung 
himself from saddle; and Rob’s weeping eyes 
showed him a sorry, low-headed black, covered 
with an old India-rubber. Saddle and accoutre- 
ments, there were none; and the eager hands that 
tore away the rubber disclosed the hideous sore 
back of an abandoned cavalry steed. 

^^Take the rubber, sergeant,” he ordered 
quickly. ^‘He’s your prize; and a pretty goose 
chase we’ve had!” He turned in saddle, try- 
ing to make out his column; but the curving road 
hid them, and he added: 

‘We can cut them off by that path ahead. It 
joins the main pike near Crag-Nest. Mount, men 
— Forward!” 

“That path will bring us in the road a mile 
ahead of ’em, sir!” the sergeant answered, re- 
mounting. “I know the way; escaped a Yankee 
scout there in August.” 

It proved he was right, for the squad emerged 
into the empty pike; no sign of friend or foe visible, 
though the dull tramp of moving horses came float- 
ing over the ravines from up the road. But 
Maury’s quick ear caught another sound, coming 
from below; and he bent low over his pommel, list- 
ening intently. 


A MORNING'S MISADVENTURES, 


169 


^^Horses; a good party he said briefly. 
‘^Steady! men — ^they must be Yanks. None of ours 
so far down.’^ 

Carbines were unslung and ready, and the cap- 
tain — revolver in hand and sitting like a statue, 
as the sounds of hoofs each way grew nearer and 
more clear — saw a Federal scouting squadron ap- 
proach at rapid trot, the early sun glinting on car- 
bine and vizor. 

“Steady, men!^’ he cried. “Hold your Are! 
They are far out of range — and too many for us; 
but we’ll give them one volley before we break 
for our — ” 

As he spoke, a single red flash shone out from 
the front of the rapid-moving line of blue; the 
words stilled abruptly on Maury’s lips and he fell 
back upon his horse’s croup, as the bay reared 
nearly upright, with the sudden tug upon his bit. 
As he came down, the rider’s hand relaxed; and, 
throwing out his freed head, the horse wheeled 
round, flying up the pike in mad run. 

On sped the line of blue, their fresh horses gain- 
ing on the flying squad; their cracking carbines 
sending bullets whizzing by the fugitives. Closer, 
clearer beat the hoofs behind; swifter and more 
near whizzed the bullets, two of them striking with 
that dull, woody thud that tells of torn flesh. 

Eob Maury’s spasmodic knee-grip, and his 
heavy boots, held him in the deep saddle; but — 


160 


CMAO-NEST. 


the chase close upon them — a ball grazed the bay’s 
flank. Swerving at the smart, he slung his inert 
rider from him, stiff and stark, and falling prone 
at the roadside. 

Ravanel — a mile away around the curve — 
heard the firing; closing up his ranks, trotting 
briskly but carefully toward it, his squadrons 
drawn across the road, carbines at a ready. A 
brief space, and rounding the curve sped on the 
wild-fiying squad; some wounded, but all panic 
struck. Next instant the bleeding bay dashed up, 
nickering piteously; and the soldier’s quick glance 
showed him his prostrate comrade, two hundred 
yards away, the blue line spurring down, close 
upon him. 

With that glance the Carolinian rose in his stir- 
rups, swinging his sabre high, as he roared: 

^^Squadron! Aim, fire!” 

A quick volley rang out from the front line; 
the troops nearing rapidly, as the Federals re- 
turned it. And again the colonel’s voice — no 
longer soft and low, but with the bugle ring in it — 
gave the quick commands: 

^^Cease firing! Draw sabres! Gallop: Charge!” 

Spurring ahead, he waved his sabre; and, as 
a hundred blades fiashed out and up, men let out 
their eagerness in a wild yell, that sent a thousand 
echoes fiying through the hills. 

give them the steel, sir!” Ravanel mut- 


A MORNING^ S MISADVEITTURES. 


161 


tered to the troop captain near him ; then, turning 
in saddle, again he swung his sword, his voice 
ringing above clank and hoof: 

^^At ’em, boys! Remember Opequon! Save 
Maury’s body!” 

On rushed the opposing horsemen, lessening the 
gap with every bound; continuous flash of carbine 
sheering the blue line; the gray firing no shot, as 
here and there men dropped from saddle. 

And now the blue had swung by Rob Maury’s 
prostrate body, shutting it from sight; the lines 
scarce fifty yards apart, when the Federals swing 
out, and Ravanel’s face — already flushed with ugly 
fire of the gladiator — suddenly grows pale. Over 
it sweeps something more fierce and fell than bat- 
tle passion. The long jaws set hard, as the white 
teeth close upon the black mustache; the right 
hand closer grips the long, keen sabre, and the 
spurs dig fiercer in the black’s panting sides, as 
the eyes, blazing with evil light, fall upon the 
Federal leader. 

Splendidly mounted, sturdy and compact — 
with heavy brow and dissipated look — the blue- 
coat rides well and recklessly to the coming fray. 
But suddenly, his eye, too, takes in the opposing 
commander, and a deep flush stains his ruddy face 
an instant, leaving it deadly pale, as his hand me- 
chanically checks his horse. It is but one in- 
stant. The next, a black seowl knits his brow, 
n 


162 


CBA(i-NEST. 


the dogged brutality of the prize ring settling on 
his face. 

And then — ^the lines almost in contact — Rava- 
nel rises in stirrups and drives full at him. 

There is a hideous shock as of two angry waves 
striking their crests. Huge dust-clouds rise and 
hang above the rushing squadrons — crash of steel 
and crunch of hoof; groan of man and scream of 
wounded beast rising through — as the columns 
strike each other. Fierce is the melee, as steel 
hews flesh, and blow and parry and oath make Pan- 
demonium for a while! Then the gray line is 
forced slowly back, flghting each foot of way. 

But in the press and rush, Ravanel is borne past 
the opponent at whom he aimed; their sabres 
clashing once as they sweep by. But the Caroli- 
nian’s is already red, and again a burly trooper 
tumbles from his steed before it, as spurring from 
right to left, he nerves his wavering men by voice 
and mien. They press back the foe steadily and 
slow ; and then — by accident of battle — the leaders 
meet again. 

^^Cur! I have found you!” Ravanel mutters 
through set teeth, as swift turn of his wrist and 
touch of the opposite spur swing the black half 
round and the heavy Federal sabre shears down 
past his shoulder with an ugly ^Vhoo!” But ere 
it is raised, his own keen point has struck the 
other’s breast, passing clean through until the hilt 



SUDDENLY A SHEET OF FLAME SHOT CLOSE BEFORE HIS EYES. 

Pa^e 163 . 



A MORNING^ S MISADVENTURES. 


163 


grates on his aguilette, and the heavy form, lurch- 
ing from saddle, almost unseats him, as thQ. blade 
snaps close to hilt. 

Quickly Ravanel drew his pistol, as the blue- 
coats doggedly bore back; the black, bridleless, 
bounding forward to the spur. Suddenly a sheet 
of flame shot close before his eyes; a deafening 
roar, as of a shell exploding in his very face; and 
he knew no more! 

It was midnight when the Carolinian feebly 
opened his eyes, dull and heavy from combined 
effect of opiates and a long gashed wound across 
his skull. For a moment he was dazed, gazing 
dully at familiar faces of his own camp. Then 
slowly reaction came, and he made a feeble effort 
to rise, as he muttered: 

^^Did we beat them?” 

^^Not much,” the old surgeon by his side 
growled grimly. ^‘We were driving them when 
you were hit; and then our boys broke like turkeys. 
It was a miracle that Caskie Cullen ever got you 
from under their feet and brought you out on 
his pommel! But you must be quiet; here, take 
this!” 

The wounded man lay apathetic, till the sur- 
geon ceased. Then there was a red gleam in the 
eyes he opened slowly, as he asked low: 

^^And their commander?” 

^^Oh! he^s all right,” the surgeon answered 


164 


CBAG-NE8T. 


grimly. your thrust had not killed him, he 
must have been trampled to death.” 

And the sick man, closing his eyes once more, 
turned his back to the speaker, muttering as 
though to himself: 

hnew I would find him — at last!” 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


165 


CHAPTER XIY. 

THE HIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 

The surgeon^s account of the skirmish was ac- 
curate, as far as it went, but the cause of the Con- 
federate break was not only the fall of their leader, 
for their front line saw a heavy mass of infantry — 
warned by the firing — advancing up the road at 
double quick. This was a full brigade, forced- 
marching toward Cedar Creek ; and with one vol- 
ley after the flying gray jackets, it reformed, 
marching straight south. By the time its ambu- 
lance corps reached the field, the cavalry bugle 
had sounded the recall, and the troopers were car- 
ing for their wounded. The Southron’s sabre was 
drawn from the body of their dead leader, and it 
was carefully laid in an ambulance, covered with 
an overcoat from his saddle. And just then a 
trooper further off found Rob Maury’s body, lying 
close beneath a boulder by the roadside, wholly 
untouched by passing hoofs. 

^^Gosh! The Johnny wore good boots,” he 
cried. ^‘Guess I’ll borrow ’um.” 

He stooped as he spoke, raising the right leg 
roughly and tugging fiercely at the high, damp 
boot, when suddenly, to his great surprise, the left 
leg drew up bending at the knee. 


166 


CRAi^XTEST. 


^^Darned ef I ever seed a corpse kick before,” 
he cried, starting back: ^^Hi! doctor!” he called to 
a surgeon passing, ^^ook at this Johnny, dead as 
a mackerel and kickin’ like a steer.” 

The man of science approached, leaned over the 
prostrate Confederate and raised his hand. On 
release, it fell back like lead, and he answered: 

^^That blue spot in his forehead means instant 
death; ball must have penetrated his brain. It 
must be the contents of your canteen that kicked, 
Chalmers.” 

^^Wish ’twas,” the trooper answered ruefully. 
“Hain’t had no grog to-day. But, doctor, darned 
ef he didn’t kick when I nabbed his boot!” 

^^Death rigor supervening,” the doctor an- 
swered with a wise look, as he stooped again, 
thrusting a rough finger into the small blue hole 
on his subject’s forehead; but the knowing expres- 
sion changed to a puzzled one, as he muttered: 

‘^Hard substance; ball must have lodged in the 
bone. He is warm, too; strange case. Here men! 
Tumble this Rebel into that ambulance; there is 
plenty of room.” 

He was promptly obeyed; and the hospital 
corps turned back, moving slowly north. 

It was late at night when Rob Maury opened 
his eyes feebly. With great effort he raised to his 
elbow on the rough army cot, staring around him 
and trying to remember. That he had a splitting 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


167 


headache and horrible nausea, he knew ; but where 
was he? The place seemed familiar; the shape 
of the long, narrow ward and the high, sashed 
sides — spite of the shattered panes — reminded 
him — . Yes, it was the conservatory at Crag-Nest. 
But how did he get there? Was Wythe Dandridge 
near by to — . Kesistless nausea and dizziness 
overcame him and he fell back upon the straw 
pillow. 

Shortly after, the surgeon who had first found 
him passed down the ward, making his report to 
the chief surgeon: 

‘Wes, sir. Colonel Clayton’s body lies in the par- 
lor there; the two officers are laid out in the hall; 
the wounded men are in this ward, all except these 
two.” He paused at the very last cot, next to 
which lay the now insensible Confederate. “This 
is a bad case; a courier from the rear who rode in 
here speechless. That gash in his forehead is 
enough to finish him — singular, doctor, how many 
head wounds there are in our arm of service; but 
he had a pistol ball through the lungs that will 
end him by morning, anyway. Here’s another odd 
case,” he turned to Eob’s cot taking up his limp 
hand. “A Kebel officer picked up after the skirm- 
ish with a bullet imbedded in the frontal bone. I 
suppose he is dead by this time. Ought to have 
died in an hour; but these Johnnies are tough.” 

The older soldier leaned over the wounded pris- 


168 


CRAG-ITEST. 


oner, feeling the penetrated forehead; then care- 
fully taking the pulse: 

^‘He seems to me pretty far from a dead man, 
doctor,” he said quietly. ^^The ball may not have 
penetrated; simply contused. Queer case; we can 
examine him in the morning, and he may walk 
about Camp Chase yet.” And the pair passed 
along the ward, forgetting the two subjects in their 
discussion of new ones. 

It was past midnight when Rob Maury again 
opened his eyes — this time without pain — and 
peered curiously into the dim shadows of the im- 
provised ward, trying to recall the strange chances 
that brought him back to the familiar spot — yet 
so changed! He was still dizzy but felt no wound 
or pain ; only strange weakness when he sat up in 
his cot. So, he lay quietly back, closing his eyes; 
and rapidly memory rushed clearly back to the 
morning’s ride, his chase for the worthless horse, 
the approach of the enemy’s scout, and the numb- 
ing blow that struck him from saddle and left all 
after it a blank. That he was a prisoner, he feared, 
but he could only conjecture how his capture came 
about; w^hether there had been a battle, in the un- 
known interval; if Ravanel’s party had been taken, 
too. 

Long he lay dull and inert; even thought an 
effort. Then he heard a small body of horse gallop 
rapidly up; the challenge of the guard and call for 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN, 


169 


its officer. Soon ^^Boots and Saddles” sounded, 
close followed by ^^To Horse!” A sergeant 
clanked down before the ward, recalling the guard, 
and there was all the orderly haste of a sudden 
night mount. 

Kising to his elbow, Maury stared through the 
shattered sash-work to the huge bonfire before the 
house; seeing the men collect from all points, as 
the bugle again cut the night with clear note of 
the ^^Assembly,” as the officers conferred in haste. 
Then it sounded the signal, ^^March!” and the col- 
umn filed away, shadowy, into the night beyond; 
leaving only a few nurses and disabled men about 
the fire. 

The ward lay still as death; the badly hurt 
men breathing dully under opiates, or too agonized 
to note aught outside. But a slight movement in 
the next cot caught Eob^s ear; and in the dim light 
he saw the wounded scout struggling to rise and 
trying to call. Then, with labored gasps, he spoke : 

^^Comrade! Quick! — I’m — going — fast! For 

God’s sake dispatch — ” 

He fell back stiff; and Kob, nerving himself, 
slipped from his cot and leaned over the sufferer, 
the night wind cooling his brain. And again, with 
last effort, the scout spoke — each word a gasp: 

^H’m Echols — Sheridan’s scout — God’s sake — 
dispatch — ^jacket lining — ^take my horse — roan 
Thil’— ” 


170 


CRAO-NE8T, 


There was a gurgle in his throat. He lay gasp- 
ing heavily, with wide staring eyes; and Rob me- 
chanically took the clammy hand in his. The 
scout feebly pressed it, closing his eyes a moment. 
Then, with great effort, he raised his head — - 
wrapped in blood-soaked bandage, and gasped out; 

^^General Wright — by day-break to — save army! 
— ride, comrade — all up with — me — Ah!” 

A gush of blood came from his lips, flooding 
his breast, his head fell back and the jaw dropped. 

Echols had died ^^on duty!” 

Still faint and dizzy, strangely weak in legs 
and back, the Confederate stood for a few seconds 
as still as the dead man, whose grip still held his 
hand. But the chaos of thought quickly took 
form, as the night wind braced his nerves and a 
great emergency rose before him. Then — with 
one cautious glance about the deserted ward and 
another at the chattering group about the fire — he 
softly reached for the blue coat and breeches hang- 
ing at the dead scout’s head. 

Stooping in the shadow between the cots, sore 
of limb and again dizzy with the effort, Rob drew 
on the clothes, reached for the dead man’s boots 
and pulled them on. The men chanced to be about 
the same size; and the transformed Rebel, rising 
carefully, passed his hand across the cold, dropped 
jaw of the corpse. To his joy, he found the face 
beardless as his own; and his nerves tingled with 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN, 


171 


a tonic thrill, as his hand went to the breast of his 
jacket and felt the dispatch crinkle and twist 
under his touch. 

What the paper might be he could not stop to 
guess. It was from Sheridan to Wright; the dy- 
ing words: ^^By daybreak — to save army!^’ rang 
in his ears, and he knew his general must read it 
before that hour, and then — . His weakened brain 
throbbed in his ears at the possibility of what his 
work might accomplish ; and, taking the FederaPs 
broad felt hat, he pulled it low over his own brow. 
Then, for the first time, Bob Maury felt the sore- 
ness of his forehead; the puncture in the skin, that 
thrilled down his very spine at the touch, and he 
realized that the shot that stunned him must have 
been spent by distance and failed to penetrate the 
bone. 

But quick moving thought did not delay him, 
and he began to turn softly away, buckling the 
scout^s sabre as he moved between the cots. 

Suddenly he paused, glanced at his own empty 
place and turned back, muttering to himself: 

^^He must escape, not I.” 

Just then a sufferer beyond groaned piteously, 
begging for water; and swiftly Bob stooped be- 
tween the cots, scarce breathing, as great drops of 
sweat broke out upon his brow. What if he should 
fail — be recognized as a Bebel! That would mean 
hanging, for Mosby^s reprisals were on every 


172 


CRAG- NEST. 


tongue, and he was in Federal uniform. But that 
thought — a mere bagatelle of waFs chances — was 
swept by that of the dispatch, and his heart grew 
cold with fear of failure — that he could not de- 
liver it to Gordon in time. 

Grasping that precious paper — that salvation 
of Wright^s army — through the thick cloth, the 
boy lay still a few seconds, that seemed hours. 
Then the plaintive cry for water ceased, and Rob — 
assured that the man had fainted or died — slowly 
drew the rough sheet from his own cot; rising to 
his knees and bracing every muscle in his still 
throbbing back. Softly and slow he slipped both 
arms beneath the body of the scout, already grow- 
ing cold and stiff in death rigor. Then with the 
strength of desperation — braced by the grave, un- 
known meaning of that paper — he raised the 
corpse slowly, twisted it about, and — 

Suddenly a cannon, clear but distant, sounded 
on the night; and the gossipers about the fire arose 
with one accord. 

Motionless — great beads upon his brow, from 
strain on brain and muscle — the boy stood breath- 
less, holding his ghastly burthen. If one man 
came in, all was lost! He would swing from a 
limb; worse — Gordon would not get the dispatch! 

But the men stood listening; speaking low and 
nervously, as another distant gun boomed out. 
And its dull echo thundered at the boy^s strained 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 173 

sense: ^^The signal gun for attack! You will be 
too late!’’ 

With straining arms, molten lead pouring 
down his spine and muscles of his thighs quivering 
under their tax, he slowly turned the dead man; 
laid him softly on his own cot and stretched his 
own cramped limbs, with a deep breath of relief 
and thankfulness. Then, as he threw the gray 
uniform ostentatiously over his bed’s head, he 
slipped the stiff, red bandage from the dead man’s 
brow, putting it around his own. And he was the 
old Rob Maury once more; for — spite of peril and 
graver anxiety still to ride away — a smile curved 
his lips, as he moved off, buckling on the sabre and 
muttering to himself: 

grim masquerade; but my head’s sorer than 
his, poor devil !” 

The men about the fire stared with some 
trepidation at the tall figure that strode among 
them, with clanking sabre and as though dropped 
from the clouds; but the youth gave no time for 
query. 

^^I’m Echols — General Sheridan’s scout,” he 
said gruffly. ^‘I’m hurt a little, but all right. 
Some of you loafers get my horse — a roan ; answers 
to name of Thil.’ Damn it! Move! I’ve an im- 
portant dispatch for General Wright; and no time 
to lose! Hear that!” 

Again the signal gun boomed out for the third 


174 


CBAB-NEST. 


interval and the Southerner's heart jumped, as 
his trained ear caught the sound of a smoothbore. 
It was a southern gun from Three Top Mountain! 

git yer horse, comrade,’’ a maimed trooper 
said. ^‘Yer don’t look sort o’ peart, ye’self.” 

And soon he came back, wrestling with the bit 
of a huge restive roan; high-headed and great- 
necked, and snapping viciously at his leader. 

^^Guess ye’re too weak to ride this devil,” the 
friendly trooper said. ^^Yer kin git my mare, 
comrade; but she ben’t fast ez him.” 

^^Better ride my own horse, partner,” Rob an- 
swered briefly, eying the restive steed and noting 
holster and saddle pocket unremoved. 

He approached the beast that backed, planting 
his feet and pulling away from approach of a 
stranger; and a cold chill ran down Rob’s aching 
back, lest detection might ensue. Mechanically 
his left hand sought the precious dispatch in his 
jacket; and — nerved by the thought of lost time 
and what might depend on that paper — all his 
horse-sense came to him. His right hand grasped 
the bit, his left hand stroking the corded, tossing 
neck — then slipping down and gripping the ex- 
panded muzzle, as he cried : 

''^0-0.' Phil! Steady, boy! Whoa, Phil!” 

Next instant he had his mouth against the 
quivering nostrils, breathing heavily into them; 
and the Northern trooper stared at the unknown 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


175 


southern trick, as the horse — whether from bold- 
ness of the act or from confident touch — stood still 
and docile. 

^What time o’ night, boys?” Rob asked as he 
clambered stiffly to saddle and gathered the reins. 

’Bout four; two hour ter sun,” was the an- 
swer. ^^Ther’s ben firin’ ’cross yon. Guess 
Wright’s movin’ ter hit ther Johnnies by day.” 

^^Shure!” put in another. ^^Custer’s callin’ in 
every man not bad hurt. Ther foragers wuz roun’ 
while back, an’ cleaned this yere camp. Wright’s 
a-movin’, sure ez shootin’!” 

Rob waited for no more. Signal guns from 
Three Top, cavalry moving in mass along Wright’s 
left at Cedar Creek, Sheridan sending dispatch 
^^to save the army” — these were spur enough to 
his intent ; and he dug the trooper’s sharp ones into 
the brute’s sides. 

Away across field — over the south fence — 
through well known wood and dim cross-road, 
sped the roan; his huge stride eating space; his 
rider more than the Wizard tells: 

“He stayed not for brake, he stopped not for stone; 

He swam the Eske river, where ford there is nonel” 

But racked by the strain, Rob’s head — more 
than once in that desperate two-hour race — bent 
low to the horse’s tense neck, as he reeled in sad- 
dle and a red mist swum before his eyes. But each 


176 


chag-n^st. 


time, out of that red mist rose the mysterious dis- 
patch; and his closed eyes saw Gordon tearing it 
open, reading eagerly — then hurling his division 
at a run down upon Wright’s flying columns. And, 
each time, that thought straightened him up in 
his seat and the spurs went home again, as his 
hand clutched the paper and a thrill, as of strong 
cordial, ran through his veins. But time seemed 
dragging snail-like, though the cool wind whis- 
tled by his ears, and he knew his detour would 
bring him to the Valley pike, nearer to his goal by 
many miles. 

Then softly the solemn mandate that crowned 
the Creation had repetition — too familiar to the 
eye from all time to still the soul in wondering 
awe. Along the eastern ridges showed pale gleam 
of gray, brightening and broadening, until The 
Voice whispered to their crests — ^^Let there be 
light!” 

The sun had barely given the Massanutten 
peaks their flrst gilding when the roan’s flying 
hoofs struck the Valley pike, his nearly exhausted 
rider still driving spur cruelly home. For plainer 
to his ear came the dull boom of cannon; signal 
guns no longer, but in continuous roar of heavy 
battle. 

Who had struck? Who was stricken? Brac- 
ing himself in saddle, he pulled the dispatch from 
his breast, tore it open and read rapidly. 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


177 


The glow came back to his cheek; the flame 
to his eye, as he rose in stirrups, waving Sheridan^s 
dispatch aloft, on that lonely road. For it told 
that the general was far off ; that he would reach 
Wright before Longstreet could combine with 
Early; and it ordered him to hold Cedar Creek to 
the last man ! 

Now, or never! Gordon had the advance; he 
could be reached soonest. Gordon must have that 
paper as fast as hoofs e’er foaled could bear it. 
Knowing Sheridan’s plan — but more than all, his 
absence — ^the Gray could strike the Blue a blow 
that yet might sweep him from the Valley! And 
Bob again gored the roan’s flanks, bending over his 
neck to urge by voice and hand. Then suddenly 
he turned his ear, listening intently; for over the 
boom of cannon and crackle of musketry, now 
plainly heard, the man’s scouting instinct caught 
hoof beats ahead, rapid and regular, but going 
from him. Half checking his horse, the now worn 
rider still smiled to himself, as he glanced at his 
blue uniform; and again he loosed the roan’s head 
and drove the spurs home. 

A turn of the road, and straight before him 
sped a rider on a great black horse, foam-flecked 
and racing as though for life or death. 

With eyes riveted on him, Rob noted the man 
was short, stout and strong, blue-clad and with 
some rank marks, and riding as though a Centaur. 

12 


178 


CRAG-NE8T, 


And, as he took this in, the other turned, gave one 
sharp look, then beckoned him on, as though recog- 
nized — ^yet never slackening speed. 

Thought — lightning-like in peril — told him 
there was but one road for him; on — ever on, with- 
out stop or stay — until Gordon held that dispatch. 
So, still spurring on, his right hand went out to 
the saddle holster for the pistol there. 

The holster was empty! 

But, ere he could utter the oath upon his lips — 
over the crest ahead poured angry waves of man 
and horse and cannon; all in one mad rush rear- 
ward — panic-struck, intermingled and rushing 
back resistless! And this on-surging wave — 
sweeping the road from side to side — tumbling 
over itself as storm-lashed foam — drew nearer 
every second. 

Checking his black, the rider ahead again 
waved quick command to Bob, shouting some 
word unheard through the roar of panic borne 
on the wind. Then, touching the spur, he 
jumped the narrow canon to the left and still rode 
onward through the heavy fields. And Rob — ^the 
surging mass of fugitives close upon him — gripped 
the roan closer and took the leap, behind him. 

And both sped through mud and ditch and fur- 
row, the roan closing on the black, as his rider 
watched with bated breath for the woods-road 
near and to the right. 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


179 


But now the foremost horseman slackened 
speed — bending low to saddle, as listening for dis- 
tant guns — the roan overlapped him. 

^‘Halt! Who are you? Where going ?” 

The quick words came in deep, commandful 
roar, the speaker turning a full, bronzed face, 
heavy -jawed and garnished with long, red-brown 
mustache. And Rob, checking the roan, felt he 
knew that face somehow — somewhere — as he an- 
swered: 

^^Courier, sir, from ” 

^'Prom Colonel Edwards, at Winchester. Um! 
he told me. Ah! You^re hit? Much hurt? 
Never mind that. D — n it, you must ride! Keep 
on to right. I’ll find Torbert and rally these tur- 
keys. You must find General Wright, or Crook! 
Ride for your life, man! Tell them I am here!" 

''Tell them—?” 

"D — n it! are you deaf! Off with you! Tell 
them — tell everybody — Phil Sheridan has come!” 

Still speaking, he spurred to left, ^cross-fur- 
rows, Rob Maury sitting stunned one instant. 
Again his hand went to the empty holster; checked 
midway by that fervid oath, before unuttered. 

He had been riding a mile behind Philip Sher- 
idan; had taken orders from his lips; was still in 
touching distance and — he had no weapon! 

Then quick revulsion came. The dispatch 

might not be vital now, but the news would be 


180 


CRAG-NB8T. 


grave indeed, that Sheridan was back, rallying the 
rout! 

Again the spur! Again the wild and scarce 
broken rush; the road above blue with flying 
Federals, the boom of cannon at the front louder, 
but less frequent, with every bound. Then came 
a lull; the mass of fugitives seemed past, while 
to the left, as far as the eye could reach, the reel- 
ing columns halted, cheered and formed, as the 
great black steed flashed by them — its rider wav- 
ing his cap! 

Straight to right the roan flies, crossing the 
pike. Close before him lies Cedar Creek, its 
southern bank gray with rank on rank at swing- 
ing run; and the curdling ^^Kebel yell” cheers him 
like wine! Into the stream, through it, plunges 
the roan — clambering up the bank, his now ex- 
hausted rider clinging to his mane. Then on 
again, straight for the lines of the gray; that blue- 
clad rider waving wildly the white cloth stained 
with Echols^ blood. 

Hands seize the reins, bayonets bristle at his 
face; but careless of them, dizzy, faint, he pants: 

^^Take me to the general! — Great news! — 
Quick!” 

They lead him to a little knoll, where grouped 
officers sit in serious council; the central horse- 
man tall, lank and grim. His keen, gray eyes 
seem to pierce the deserter, as he pushes the damp. 


THE RIDE WITH SHERIDAN. 


181 


dark hair back from a great, bold forehead; and 
the full, stern lips show beneath the gray-streaked 
mustache and stiff, long beard. 

^^General, a Yankee deserter! He claims to 
have news.’’ 

have, sir;” Rob breaks in feebly. ‘‘General 
Sheridan is in — ” 

“You’re late, fellow!” the stern lips reply 
gruffly. “We knew yesterday he is in Washing- 
ton — ” 

“No, sir! On this field — just ridden to his left 
for Torbert to rally the — ” 

“Who are you?” roars the Confederate Com- 
mander of the Valley, with many a bounding oath. 

“How do I know you are not a liar, you 

traitor to your own — ” 

Reeling in saddle, the other straightens up to 
salute and answers: 

“I am Captain Maury, adjutant-general of Cal- 
vert’s brigade, sir! Escaped from Yankee hos- 
pital last night; rode miles with Sheridan — this 
horse his scout’s — spoke with him — have his mes- 
sage for — Wright — or ” 

An officer caught him as he fell from the roan; 
the general, gathering his own horse as he roared; 

“Sheridan back! the old rat! he has walked 

into the trap, by !* General, double 

quick your division and form on Kershaw’s right! 


Fact. Early’s words on learning Sheridan’s return. 


182 


CBAQ-NEST, 


Harrison, gallop to front and sound the recall 

along the whole line! Look to the boy! D 

it! he’s worth a regiment of scouts! Major, ask 
General Gordon to hurry all his artillery to the 
right! Forward, gentlemen! This time, we will 
crush Sheridan!” 


A RICHMOND STARVATION' 8^' RESULTS. 


188 


CHAPTER XY. 

A RICHMOND STARVATION’S ” RESULTS. 

^^Yes, Cousin Wirt, Coulter Brooke’s to have a 
‘starvation’ on Friday, and you are specially in- 
vited, if you can’t walk a polonaise with a grander 
lady than the Russian Crown Princess!” 

And Miss Wythe Dandridge gave the mistress 
of Crag-Nest a resounding kiss, and just touched 
her lips to Colonel Calvert’s mustache, as she sat 
by his wheel-chair at the officers’ hospital. 

The veteran looked all himself again; rosy, 
fresh and only lacking battle-tan. The gray mus- 
tache — longer than ever, but more carefully 
tended — swept healthy and smooth-shaven cheeks, 
and the deep eyes danced under shadow of the 
bushy white brows, with kindly merriment, as he 
answered : 

“I kiss Miss Coulter’s dainty hand. Miss Dan- 
dridge. But we are not so sure about that polon- 
aise; eh. Cousin Virginia? This old thigh of mine 
must be all right right now; and I’ll try a few 
steps with Doctor Carter, when he makes his next 
round.” 

‘‘You well know. Cousin Wirt, how I would 
rejoice, were you able to dance,” Mrs. Courtenay 


L84 


CBAG^NEST. 


answered with a grave smile; sighing softly as she 
added, ^^or to ride again/^ 

be a new man by the time muddy roads 
permit a spring campaign he laughed back. “I 
told you all, at Crag-Nest, that I was as good as 
two dead men. Zounds! I’ll be better than two 
old ones, thanks to devotion of my three sweet 
nurses. Do you know, my cousins,” — his face grew 
graver and his eyes softened , — “1 have not laid 
my head on that pillow one night since, without 
grateful memory of VaPs wonderful constancy 
and nerve; and of your brave, dashing ride, you 
saucy little beauty. Ah! Cousin Virginia, God 
never made grander women than those with whom 
He blessed our state!” 

^‘Nor grander men, my kinsman,” the old lady 
replied softly. ^Wythe, have you inquired for 
Major Ravanel this morning?” 

“Yes; the matron tells me he is much the same,” 
the girl answered gravely. “He sleeps more; but, 
when he wakes, the fever rises and he talks con- 
stantly. The lady in black never leaves him now, 
day or night. I wonder who she is!” 

“A relative, of course,” Mrs. Courtenay replied 
somewhat stiffly. “I can not tell why her face 
seems familiar, for I am sure we never met, and 
she treated me as a perfect stranger when she 
came to the hospital.” 

“She^s gentle and good to him as his own 


A JSICITMOJV’I) ^^STAJiVATIOJV^S^f RESULTS. 186 

mother could be,” the girl answered. “What a 
sad chance her illness is, to separate such a mother 
and son!” 

“He will come out all right,” Colonel Calvert 
said cheerily. “These wiry fellows, with calm 
nerves and iron will, are hard to kill. Zounds! 
cousin, you never would recognize Ravanel in the 
reckless devil that charged down at Opequon, scat- 
tering the Yankees right and left — literally hew- 
ing out a path for me. Yet he was cool as in 
your drawing room; recollecting every cow-path 
through those woods. But for him, I had never 
troubled you dear ladies all these months! But— 
allons! This is ^piping time of peace,^ thanks to 
the mud. We will forget our stern alarums and 
dreadful marches for merry meetings and delight- 
ful measures.” 

Truly, as he said, another winter siesta had 
come, enforced by winter rigor that made roads 
everywhere impassable for artillery, wagon-trains 
and aught else but raiding cavalry. So the hostile 
lines — close enough to each other for pickets to 
“chaff”; close enough for dwellers in the cities to 
hear their desultory firing — were able to attempt 
no formidable movement. Lee’s sleepless vigi- 
lance — well seconded by that of his generals — 
foiled graver intent of the raiders at all points; and 
Early — sore from his late defeat, yet ever watch- 
ful and tenacious as a mastiff — was watching 


186 


CRAG’NEST. 


Sheridan^s repeated efforts at surprise, in surly 
calm, from his winter quarters near Waynesboro. 

Meanwhile, Kichmond was strangely gay, after 
its own peculiar fashion. Many officers crowded 
the capital on duty, or leave; and the younger of 
these — tired and worn from camp — were equally 
famished for female society and for gaiety and 
fun of every sort. And the Eichmond girls — ever 
ready to aid and comfort their soldier, boys with 
needle, bandage, lint and equally-prized words of 
cheer — now seemed quite as ready to aid their 
plans for mutual pleasure. 

In common with their graver elders, these 
young people realized that the strain was remitted 
for the moment; possibly they recked that it 
would renew to-morrow, for the final crush. Yet 
they seemed content to enjoy the day with all the 
recklessness of long restraint. Dances were of al- 
most nightly occurrence; not those generously bril- 
liant assemblies which had erst crowned Rich- 
mond ^^queen of hospitality,” but joyous gather- 
ings of young people, who danced as though the 
music of shells had never drowned that of the 
chance negro fiddler — who laughed and flirted as 
though there were no to-morrow, with its certain 
skirmish and its possible blanket for winding- 
sheet. Many a gallant youth had ridden direct 
from dance to picket line; ere next noon, to jolt 
into town on a country cart, stiff and stark— a bul- 


A BICHMOITD STARVATION^ 8» RESULTS. 187 

let through his heart. For the soldier boys were 
not only those on leave; the lines close to the city 
holding many willing to do ten miles each way on 
horseback, through snow and slush, for one waltz 
with “somebody^s darling.” 

These ^^starvations,” as their name implied, en- 
tailed no waste of supplies, vital alike to soldier 
and civilian; for a law infrangible as the Me- 
dan^s limited all refreshments to ample supply of 
^‘Jeems’ River” water. Music Tvas furnished some- 
times by ancient negro minstrels, more often by 
dainty fingers of some cheery matron; always by 
soft voice or merry laugh of ^dadyes fayre,” for 
whom each knight was ready to do — or to die! 

The more saturnine, and the more hopeless, 
turned eyes ascant, and elevated horrified hands, 
at these “starvations;” but, as Rob Maury had 
written to his cousin : “As we fellows do the get- 
ting killed, I don’t see why the old goodies object 
to our dancing in the intervals of the killing; and 
I’m coming down to Coulter Brooke’s german sure, 
unless old Early sends for me for special consul- 
tation.” 

But this winter’s siesta was widely different 
from that first one, when the mistress of Crag-Nest 
had welcomed the — th Cavalry; its rest being fit- 
ful — fevered with the hectic of long strain — star- 
tled by spectres of foreboding that would not 
down for the bidding. For war, if making all 


L88 


CRAQ-KTEST. 


philosophers, does not change all to Stoics; and 
there were those who seemed to feel the full 
weight of the situation; and to look beyond, with 
no bright vistas intervening. 

Val Courtenay was one of these. The girl had 
grown strangely grave and sad; no flashes of her 
saucy merriment now answering Wythe^s sallies; 
and when the latter had once exclaimed that she 
found a single gray strand in her cousin’s black 
hair, the latter had only smiled gravely and an- 
swered: 

‘^What matter, Wythe? The only wonder is 
that more of us are not gray.” 

But her old-time sweetness and force of char- 
acter had nowise changed; and Val went about 
her daily duties — and she made them numerous 
and all-engrossing — as tried member of that tire- 
less band of veritable Sisters of Mercy, who 
soothed the pillow of suffering and strengthened 
the feet that trod the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death. 

While needful, she had watched ceaselessly by 
the bedside of the soldier she had saved ; and still 
showed devotion to that task in his rapid recuper- 
ation, while she broadened her work by visitations 
to Chimborazo and other hospitals. 

One crisp November noon, as the girl was leav- 
ing the officers’ hospital on one of her charitable 
missions, an ambulance drove slowly up; and in 


A RICHMOND " STARVATION' RESULTS. 189 

the wrecked form of the sufferer from ghastly 
camp-fever, she recognized Fraser Ravanel. Stub- 
born in his ideas of duty — and seeming possessed 
of morbid dread of being sent to Richmond — the 
young colonel had ignored the surgeon’s orders; 
had gone on duty with his wound still unhealed, 
overexerting his failing strength in the weeks of 
sleepless anxiety succeeding Cedar Creek. At 
last, mind ceased longer to coerce matter; seeds 
of fever sowed in the overworked system stretched 
him on a bed of illness, that should have been 
grave warning. But still Ravanel resisted; scoff- 
ing at sick furlough and dragging himself back to 
duty while yet unfit. Resulting relapse gravely 
periled a life too valuable to lose; and his general 
sent him to Richmond, while still in mid-delirium 
of fever. So it was but the wreck of the man she 
had said she loved three years before — whom, in 
all that interval, she had struggled to convince 
herself had ceased to be aught to her — that Val 
saw lifted from the van. 

Not one of the women who waste usefulness in 
hesitance, she made up her mind at once; and — her 
face deadly pale, but quiet and resolved — she 
sought the matron and told her an officer she knew 
seemed desperately ill ; that, if she could be of use, 
she would assist in nursing him. From that time, 
large portion of each day was spent beside the 
fever patient’s cot; and, ever striving with all her 


190 


CRAG-KE8T. 


soul and honor not to listen, could not prevent dis- 
jointed expressions from the fevered brain reach- 
ing her ears. Nor could all strength of will she 
summoned keep the blood from surging to her 
brain — or still the flutter of the heart she deemed 
so fully schooled — when softer tones murmured of 
other days, and spoke her own name through them 
all. But one day, moving softly to her post — a 
strange calm on her face, reflecting strange peace 
in her heart — she stood transfixed; her feet rooted 
to the floor and her heart stilled. 

Kneeling by her patient’s bed was the lissome 
form of a woman, clad in black; her arms thrown 
about the sufferer’s neck, and her soft voice call- 
ing his name in that one universal tone, lent by 
love alone! For one brief second Val looked. The 
next she turned gravely away, moving toward the 
door, with head erect, but with that hope which, 
unwarned, she had let grow full-statured in her 
heart, lying prostrate there, corpse-like. 

No word of this she breathed to aunt or cousin; 
meeting their comments on the beautiful and de- 
voted stranger with calm, if unmeaning, answers; 
and she even went sometimes to Kavanel’s bedside 
— always in the strange woman’s rare absences — 
explaining quietly to the matron that demands of 
her sick at Chimborazo kept her away. And, in 
truth, she was now a tireless nurse; going early 
and late, until the colonel warned and her aunt 


A RICHMOND » STARVATION'S'^ RESULTS. 191 

chided, lest she wear out her strength. But a 
grave, sad smile was ever her answer to them and 
to Wythe^s loving petulance — that she “never did 
see such a girl! We might as well be strangers, 
for all I see of you!” 

But through that long week there ever rose in 
Val Courtenay’s mind one query; why her cousin 
was so gently sympathetic, but so little grieved 
or anxious, at RavanePs condition. Spite of will, 
she constantly asked herself if she could have 
been mistaken; if Wythe had really cared nothing 
for the handsome Carolinian, when she cast Rob 
Maury off so strangely. But ever, after such quer- 
ies, would follow fierce self-contempt, and angry 
avowal that she was prying into what did not 
concern, and had been studiously kept from, 
her. 

But one night, coming in later than usual, and 
wearied, brain and body with her good work, she 
found Wythe sitting before the fire, in night ap- 
parel, embracing her knees and resting her fair 
head upon them. 

“Val Courtenay! You’re just the greatest 
goose of a girl I ever saw!” Miss Dandridge ex- 
claimed, rising and extending first one little cro- 
cheted slipper, and then the other, to the blaze — 
“wearing yourself to skin and bone and getting 
crow’s feet and gray hairs — for ^duty!’ I’m sure 
you owe some duty to yourself, if not to those who 


192 


CRAO-NE8T. 


love you! But, you’re the dearest old Val, just 
the same!” 

And suddenly — as in their old room at Crag- 
Nest, after their first quarrel — the younger girl 
threw her arms about her friend ; and, as then, the 
soft, fair hair was pressed against her bosom. 
And, as then, again the look of love ineffable — but 
with more of sadness and maternal tenderness in 
it — as the tall head bent down once more and the 
quivering lips pressed soft upon it. 

tell you, Val,” Wythe exclaimed a little later, 
swinging the little slippers nervously as she sat on 
the bedside, while her companion disrobed, ^‘so 
much has happened at the hospital to-day. Col- 
onel Ravanel’s fever left him; and, Val, he’s just 
as sane as you are! Doctor Carter let him see 
Cousin Wirt a moment, and Cousin Virginia and I 
wheeled him in. They would not let him talk; but 
he’s such a prig for courtesy, he would introduce 
his sister — ” 

Val wheeled round upon the speaker, her 
raised hands holding the masses of black hair that 
shadowed a face ghastly pale, and the white lips 
moved soundless as they formed the two words 
in repetition. 

^Wes, she’d been across the lines; business or 
something. She’s so like him; gentle and soft- 
voiced and says ^ma’ just like him.” 

The other woman still stood staring, the motion- 



HEK COLOR DEEPENING ON NECK AND BUST AND ARMS. 


Page 193 , 








I 

• 

• •> 

- > 


» ■* 



A RICHMOND STARVATION RESULTS. 198 

less hands not taken from her hair, but the color 
coming slowly back to her cheek and lip, as she 
forced herself to say : 

^^Sister! Why, he told us he was an only 
child!” 

^^He never told me so,” Wythe answered saucily. 
^^He never told me anything, except commonplace 
and tactics. But he is a perfect gentleman, Val; 
so quietly grateful for kindness, or courtesy. Why, 
that night of their ball — he is a lovely dancer, 
though! — he took the time any of our boys would 
have used for flirtation, making me promise not 
to let our household forget him! Now isn’t he a 
prig?” 

The long, nervous hands supporting VaPs hair 
fell before her in soft clasp; the color deepening 
on neck and bust and arms. For to her sight rose 
the loved old hall at Crag-Nest, with its antlered 
rack; a man and a woman contending for a sword 
beneath it; and accusing conscience scoffed bit- 
terly at her mis judgment, as the man’s voice de- 
clared that he had perfect faith that Wythe would 
not forget her pledge. 

“And Val, dear, you must get home earlier for 
to-morrow’s ^starvation.’ That’s why I sent Cap- 
tain Caskie Cullen off when he brought me from 
the hospital; and Coulter was sound, as I ran in to 
kiss her good-night! And Cousin Wirt had — ” 
The crocheted slippers swung nervously and, for 
13 


194 


CBAG-NS3T. 


some occult reason, the glowing cheek took on a 
deeper glow, as she stopped abruptly. 

^Well, dear, what did Cousin Wirt have, to 
make an old girl like me go to the dance 

Val Courtenay was herself once more, but her 
voice was as soft as the flush on her cheek and the 
light in her great, dark eyes. 

^‘Oh! nothing he had — yes; he had a letter say- 
ing your — that the general would arrive in the 
morning, and that — I believe Captain Maury will 
be with him!’’ 

had a letter from him, too,” Val answered 
quietly. ‘^Dear old Kob! How glad I shall be! 
You know, Wythe, none of us have seen him since 
that grand ride, that set the whole Valley shout- 
ing his praises!” 

^‘It teas a brave ride,” the other answered 
dreamily, staring at her slippers. 

‘^But why should that take me to ^starvation,’ 
Wythe? Kob would rather dance with the 
younger girls; you, for instance. He is my pet 
cousin, but” — the rare old-time smile came to her 
lips — ^^as I believe I told you once before, I’m old 
enough to be his — aunt!” 

^^And you told him so — that night!” Wythe 
had slipped from the bedside, standing before her 
cousin, the blue eyes full on the black ones. 

^What night, dear?” The black eyes widened 
a little, in wonder at the tone. 


A RICHMOND STARVATION^ B" RESULTS. 196 

^^That night when he — when you — the night 
that Major Ravanel and I — Again Wythe 
paused abruptly, but without a blush. 

^‘Became such good friends that you would 
dance with scarcely anyone else?” the elder fin- 
ished for her. 

^^He danced with you first!” Wythe retorted. 

^^Only one little turn, dear.” VaPs face soft- 
ened and the light in her eyes grew tender at mem- 
ory of another night; a night under this very roof, 
when she had heard his pledge to dance with no 
woman more, until they met; when she had spoken 
words her lips might unsay, but her heart — never! 

^^And then you went off with Mm — ^with Cap- 
tain Maury; and I heard — ” 

^^Heard what, little sister?” The wonder in 
VaPs face conquered reminiscence, as she spoke. 

^^Of course, it was chance, Val! I know you’d 
never think me mean enough to listen! I never 
mentioned it before, because — oh! Val, you know I 
didn’t!” And Miss Dandridge, illogical as her sex 
ever, burst into tears. 

“You dear little mystery! Come to your ma!” 
Val laughed; but a burning fiush dyed face and 
bosom — tinting even the long, graceful arms that 
clasped her cousin — as she heard her own voice 
form that last word. But she finished bravely: 
“Now tell your sister what is the matter?” 

“It was only chance!” Wythe sobbed. “We 


196 


CRAG-NEBT. 


had no idea — Captain Eavanel and I — when we 
went into the conservatory — that you and Rob — 
that we’d over — hear you — you refuse him!” 

A light broke over the broad brow, bowed 
above the fair head — the rosy dawn of an idea. 
Then that light broadened and rippled over the 
flushed face; and Val Courtenay — releasing the 
soft, plump burthen from her arms — threw herself 
upon the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and 
shook with overmastering emotion. 

Wythe stared a moment, her small grief stilled 
in presence of a burst such as she had never seen 
Val yield to. Then the plump, white hand touched 
the soft, heaving shoulder, and she cried plaint- 
ively: 

^^Oh! Val, don’t! Please, please don’t! I didn’t 
mean, dear — I couldn’t help it; and I don’t care 
anything — much, for him — now !” 

Moments passed before the sloping shoulders 
stilled and the clinched hands released that pil- 
low. Then Val, after what seemed a great strug- 
gle, controlled herself sufficiently to rise. Even 
then, as she turned her hot face upon her compan- 
ion’s wondering one, a strange spasm crossed it 
and Val’s hands pressed hard, commandful on her 
heaving bosom. But, calming herself, she said with 
a solemnity that to Wythe seemed truly awful : 

“So you heard me reject — Rob Maury! Wythe, 
such confidence must be — ” she paused; the 


A RICHMOND STARVATION^ 8'^ RESULTS. 197 

strange spasm again distorting her face — ^^sacred! 
God bless you, dear — dearest little girl! Never 
recur to this — until I give you permission. Good- 
night, you sweet little goo — I” 

She broke off, clasped the bewildered Miss Dan- 
dridge in tighter hug, and sprung into bed. And 
Wythe, lying wakeful in the darkness, was sure 
she felt the soft form by her once more shaking 
with emotion. 

The next was a busy day, indeed, for all the 
Brooke household. The general arrived for early 
breakfast; rotund, jovial and ruddy bearded as of 
yore, but none the worse for a recent serious 
wound. With him came Bob Maury — the house- 
hold hero now, but refusing to be lionized, even 
when the general told the table that he had ap- 
plied for Major Maury as member of his staff. 

But Val managed to slip away alone by noon; 
and when the whole party called on Colonel Cal- 
vert and Eavanel, she had just left the hospital. 

Dinner was over and house-clearing for ^^star- 
vation’^ done when the girl returned; quiet and 
with the seal of some great joy upon her face. 
Wythe sat alone on the wide old settee in the hall- 
way, pretending to read; and laughter floated 
from the open door of the pantry near, where Coul- 
ter Brooke and Bob Maury waged battle royal 
over a captured pie. 

^^I^m so glad youVe come, ValP’ Wythe cried. 


198 


CRAG-NEST. 


with a petulant toss of the book. ^^It’s awfully 
lonely — since the general rode away 

The other girl sat down, taking the restless lit- 
tle hand in hers; but the knowing smile that just 
moved her lips left them, as she said gravely : 

^T’ve plenty to tell, dear. To begin, I have 
seen his — Colonel EavaneFs sister. We met in 
the matron’s room, and she stopped to thank us 
all for the little we had done for him. Somehow 
we became sympathetic; and I know her story. 
Oh! Wythe, she is a brave, true woman, worthy 
of her race; but she has suffered as few have, for a 
hasty marriage, against all opposition. Her 
mother was relentless, disowned her utterly; for- 
bade all mention of her name — even erasing it 
from the Bible. The husband was worse than any 
feared; drunken, dishonest, cruel! Finally, he 
deserted her in Washington and joined the Yan- 
kees — three years ago; while I was in this house; 
and then Colonel Eavanel sent for, and cared ten- 
derly for her since. After Cedar Creek, she heard 
of the traitor’s death; and she rejoices that her 
brother — whose high pride of name she knows — 
never met him after his flight!” 

^^How dreadful!” Wythe exclaimed. ^Wal, do 
you know I think it terribly dangerous for any 
girl to marry !” 

am afraid it is, some — ” the other began; 
but the battle of the pie surged out of the pantry. 


A RICHMOND STARVATION RESULTS 199 

veering toward them; and then Coulter Brooke fled 
up the stairs, leaving the new major master of the 
sticky spoils. 

^^Hello! Cousin Val! I captured the commis- 
sary stores! Have a bite?’’ 

He advanced flushed and breathless; but Wythe 
rose stiffly and stepped into the wide-swung door 
of the pantry. 

^^Sit here, you great boy!” Val answered. ‘‘I 
want to borrow your memory a moment.” 

^^All right; but I won’t lend you my pie!” he 
answered, describing a great arc in it with strong 
teeth. “Now, commence flring!” 

“Eob, you remember the ball we gave to the 
regiment? Well, when you and I went into the 
conservatory, and you were raging about Captain 
Eavanel’s devotion to — ” His mouth was too full 
for speech; but the youth’s eyes rolled in piteous 
entreaty toward the pantry door. Still Val went 
on, even raising her voice — “to our pretty little 
cousin, I told you love was a delusion; that I knew, 
for I was old enough to be your — aunt!” 

“Val! for heaven’s sake — ” With a huge ef- 
fort and a huger swallow, Eob got out the hoarse 
whisper, his juice-stained hand pointing to the 
pantry door, as he rose to his feet. But Val — 
blind as deaf to all entreaty — went on, loud and 
relentless : 

“But, Eob, none of us know anything about 


200 


CRAG- NEST. 


it. You were wiser then — and ever since — in tell- 
ing me how well you loved — dear little Wythe 

She, too, rose to her feet; premonitory rustle of 
impending flight coming through the door, as she 
placed both Arm hands upon the boy’s shoulders, 
and added rapidly: 

‘^Later, in my folly, I said: ‘Better one fool 
than two!’ Kob, I was the fool, then!” 

With sudden movement, she pushed the sur- 
prised warrior back into the pantry; and, before 
she could reach the stair’s head, the wild wail 
floated up to her: 

“Oh, Rob! Of course I do. Don’t! You’ve 
stained my — ‘starvation’ dress!” 

But the bright smile it brought to her lips 
faded from her face before the tender glow of light 
from within, as Yal Courtenay pressed her fore- 
head against the cool pane, and gazed through the 
fast-coming dusk at the distant hospital. 

Then she seated herself at the escritoire, writ- 
ing rapidly and with firm hand: 

“Pull confession of fault humiliates only false 
pride. To that, penance; to true regret, it is best 
solace. In your fever, frequent words made me 
pity you much — myself far more. Since I met 
your sister, my sin against you — equally against 
myself — stands bare before me. If you can for- 
give it, God will be merciful ! And He knows how 
truly I would expiate it, by lifetime duty to that 


A mCBMOI^D **SrAJRVATIOjy’*S’* RESULTS. 201 

trutK I misjudged so blindly. Contrite for the 
past — with no false pride for the present — I write 
what I once bade you call me, 

“Always yours, 

“Valerie.” 

Never reading the words, she slipped them in 
an envelope, sealed and addressed it: “Colonel 
Fraser Kavanel, Officers’ Hospital.” 

Then she bent her face long upon the white 
hands, lifting her soul in meekness toward the 
Throne’s foot. And, when she raised it, the last 
ray of the winter sunset struggled through the 
shadows and touched her forehead! 


202 


CRAG-NEST. 


CHAPTER XVL 

THE TORCH AT CRAO-NESV 

The soft, warm afterglow of September dusk 
fell upon the broad piazza, wrapping in its rosy 
gray the occupants of two ample straw rocking- 
chairs; but the last, lingering kiss of the day god 
still flushed the far crest of old Massanutten, as 
waiting the stealthy creep of Diana to steal it 
from that hoary, three-headed custodian. 

^That new coat of paint warms up, even in this 
light. Cousin Wirt. Indeed, the home looks al- 
most like the old days once more.’^ 

The speaker sighed softly, as the long, white 
hands fell gently to rest in her moire antique lap; 
though the sound was not of sorrow, but of full 
contentment, and her slim slippers crossed in 
stately comfort, as she added ; 

^^But you are always so thoughtful and so — 
generous. Pardon me, kinsman, but I fear none 
of us can well afford luxuries in these days.” 

^^Luxuries! Cousin Virginia, Mon dieu! fresh 
paint is a necessity. And besides, this is not my 
doing, but EzekiePs. I only furnished the paint; 
he gave the talent. You remember the day we last 
rode away from the dear old place, 1 told Ziek 


THE TORCH AT CRAO-NE8T, 


203 


that he was a perfect gentleman, for all his black 
skin? Now he looms up as an eminent artist. 
Zounds! I have seen great paintings in the Paris 
galleries that gave me less satisfaction as works 
of art. I was saying so to the general this after- 
noon!” 

A little pause, punctuated by a half sigh. Then 
the lady said: 

^^He told me so. He, too, is ever thoughtful. 
Cousin, in all my years I have never met such a 
young man !” 

^^You are right, as ever. Cousin Virginia,” came 
the hearty response. ^^But for him, you dear 
women would now be plaiting wreaths for my mod- 
est mound, somewhere yonder. Zounds! I remem- 
ber, as though but yesterday, the ping of that Win- 
chester that tumbled me out of saddle. Your gen- 
tle tending — and the girls’ — brought me back to 
life, kinswoman; but he brought me to you!” 

^^But for him, none of us might be here now,” 
Mrs. Courtenay answered, somewhat dreamily, as 
the calm eyes peered rather into reminiscence than 
the dusk beyond. ^^Ah! kinsman, those were try- 
ing days; but with you and the dear children under 
the roof again, I can forget them — almost.” 

^^Entirely, if you can,” he broke in. “When 
Mars’ Kobert gave his sword to Grant, six months 
ago, the war ended for me. 1 am still a trifle un- 
reconstructed, perhaps, but I strive to look ahead 


204 


CRAQ‘NE8T. 


and not behind me. There is other work in life 
than fighting; and, zounds! the men of Virginia 
have plenty of it to do — and her noble women, too! 
Void! Crag-Nest looks like a bride herself; and to- 
morrow — 

^‘Yes; God be thanked for to-morrow!” the 
lady broke in — ‘^and for the peace that makes it 
possible. Ah ! Cousin Wirt, I grow young again in 
their happiness. Hear that! — ” 

A ringing peal of girlish laughter broke 
through the darkening dusk. A moment later 
feet crunched the fresh-raked gravel of the walk, 
and a tall, stalwart form strode into view, with a 
more shadowy one clinging to his arm. The 
laughter ceased; the tall head seemed to bend 
down an instant. Then silence fell as the pair 
rapidly approached and mounted the familiar, 
broad steps — creaking now no longer beneath the 
firm tread. 

“And nothing on your head, my child,” Mrs. 
Courtenay said mildly. “Ah! Master Kob, you 
will have to learn to take better care of our baby 
than this.” 

“Really, Cousin Virginia, I donT think — ” the 
youth began. 

“Major Maury is excusable, kinswoman,” Gen- 
eral Calvert finished for him. “You are too exige- 
ante. How can a young gentleman think of any- 
body's head, under circumstances which warrant 


THE TORCH AT CRAG-NE8T. 


206 


losing his own? Zounds! my little cousin, in his 
boots, I believe I should walk upon my head.” 

run in and make Esther light up,” Miss 
Dandridge replied, somewhat inconsequently. ^^It 
is supper time, and we were just saying we were 
both awfully hungry.” 

thought so,” the veteran answered quietly; 
and as the fair girl tripped into the dim hall, her 
cavalier seated himself upon the step, struck a 
modern match and applied it to the bowl of a fra- 
grant briar-root pipe. 

There was a quiet pause, while the attention 
of the trio might have been concentered on the 
red-glowing pipe. 

The sky behind the mountains whitened sud- 
denly, the cloud edges catching the gleam of mol- 
ten silver. Then the full disc of the moon popped 
suddenly up over old Three-Top, sending her slant 
shafts of light full upon the group, and dropping 
their reflections broad and clear upon all inter- 
vening space. 

am an awkward cub of a fellow. Cousin Vir- 
ginia,” the young soldier blurted out abruptly. 
have never once told you how grateful I am. But 
God knows I appreciate the blessing He gives me; 
and I’ll try to prove to you that I deserve it!” He 
puffed thoughtfully a moment, sending fragrant, 
blue wreaths against the white moonlight. 

believe you do deserve her, Rob/^ There was 


206 


VRAG-NE8T. 


gentle gravity, but loyal assurance, too, in the 
matron^s tone. ^^And you will prove it, my boy, 
for the blood of the Cabbells is in your veins.” 

^^And my duty to you is done, sir,” the older 
soldier added. ^^My promise to your father is ful- 
filled. Mon dieu! Nothing can make a man of 
you like possession of such a woman!” 

For a moment Eob Maury was silent, smoking 
with short, nervous puffs. Then he cried bluntly: 

‘Wasn’t I a donkey, though! To think Wythe 
was flirting with Ravanel, and make myself miser- 
able — worse than that! to make her so — ^two whole 
years. General, I ought to be reduced to the 
ranks!” 

“Sentence approved and referred to your new 
commanding officer,” General Calvert answered 
laughingly. But there was a strange softness in 
his tone; and he reached out a firm hand, resting 
it on the boy’s shoulder, as he added: 

“You have done credit to your race, sir; for four 
long years. A brave gentleman can not be a don- 
key long, Bob, and you would never have mistaken 
had you loved less loyally.” 

“^e never makes mistakes!” Master Rob mut- 
tered — more to himself than in reply. He jerked 
his head toward two others, coming rapidly from 
the gate; then hid himself in silence and a dense 
cloud of smoke. 

“Gh! Aunt Virginia, she will be here at day- 


THE TORCH AT CRAChNEST. 


207 


light! We walked over to the station and found 
a telegram, telling us the train broke down at 
Weldon r 

Valerie Courtenay’s voice had the same clear, 
rich ring as of yore; but the tears had all dried out 
of it now, replaced by the thrill of full contentment; 
and the tone was the saucy, girlish one that had 
charged Kob Maury with desertion on that same 
spot four years before. 

^^There was a dispatch for you, too. General 
Calvert,” her companion said, mounting the steps 
and handing the dingy envelope. 

‘^Thank you. General Eavanel. With your 
permission, ladies,” the veteran said; and rising, 
as the hall lamp gleamed out bright and clear, he 
moved toward the door and broke the seal. 

am more rejoiced than I can tell you. Gen- 
eral Eavanel,” Mrs. Courtenay said earnestly. 
^^To have my old schoolmate under my roof — after 
all these years, quite fills the measure of my joy 
for to-morrow — and your sister, too, general,” she 
added suavely. ^^As your mother’s daughter, she 
would be welcome, even had Eichmond not taught 
us all to love and know her high womanhood.” 

^^Yes, it would not have been complete with- 
out — sister.” Valerie hesitated only a second, be- 
fore the word; but the dark eyes she raised to her 
lover had in them a depth of love born of grateful 
memory. 


208 


CHAG’NSST. 


'^You both know how I delight to hear you 
speak so/^ Kavanel answered in his quiet way — 
^^and to feel that it is deserved. There are no 
women to me, in all the world, like ma and sister!” 

^^Say! Cousin Val!” Major Maury whispered, 
out of his cloud, to the girl — ^^that’s treason. But 
you’ll teach him to talk differently after a while.” 

^^Never doubt it, Rob!” she whispered back, 
in her old saucy way. ^^Suppose we begin now. 
Just offer me your arm for a stroll in the conserv- 
atory, and repeat that declaration you made me 
at the ball and — ” 

^^Hush! Here comes Wythe,” he interrupted 
uneasily. ^^Don’t remind her of what a donkey 
I made myself; for, in her goodness, she pretends 
to forget it!” 

^^Of course she does,” Miss Courtenay retorted, 
in the same low tone — ^^since you shared with her 
what was dearer than life; what you refused me!” 

He only stared, taking the pipe from his lips; 
but she went on: 

^^Didn’t I peep over the banisters, that evening 
of the ^starvation,’ and see you divide that pre- 
cious pie — ” 

'^Bother the pie! Please hush!” And the ex- 
major, C. S. A., jammed his broad shoulders 
against the pillar and puffed denser clouds than 
before. 

‘‘More good news, kinswoman!” General Cal- 


THE TORCH AT CRAG-HEST. 209 

v^ert cried, coming from the hall with one hand 
captured by Wythe’s plump little one, and the 
other extending the brown dispatch. ^^General 
Buford telegraphs that my letter followed him to 
Washington, and he will be down just in time for 
the — event.” 

^‘He will be welcome. Cousin Wirt,” the matron 
answered frankly, but gravely. had never ex- 
pected to ask a Union officer to cross the thres- 
hold of Crag-Nest, socially; but respect for the man 
— no less than gratitude — makes Mister Buford 
welcome, in spite of his uniform.” 

^‘Zounds! madam; you don’t expect him to wear 
it? I tell you that old Frenchman was right: We 
know a man when we have fought with him!” the 
old soldier cried warmly. ^^Buford is a true gen- 
tleman, as well as a true soldier. I’ll risk my 
parole, kinswoman, that he comes in mufti 

The lady’s face was still grave; but she made 
no reply, before Ezekiel appeared in the doorway. 
Resplendent in immaculate expanse of collar and 
front, that shamed even his halcyon days of the 
war, the old black wore a dress coat of startling 
length of skirt, and trowsers of amplest width; 
both fresh and shining from the tailor’s hands. 
Under his arm he bore a massive silver waiter; and 
there was rejuvenescence in the voice — punctuated 
by a stately bow — that announced: 

^^Da missus’ tea am served P 
14 


210 


CRAO-NE8T. 


Still silent, Mrs. Courtenay rose, passed her 
arm into her kinsman’s and moved stately to the 
old dining-room, the younger pairs following with 
less state. 

^^Oh! Fraser, how could you?’’ Valerie whis- 
pered, her glance flashing to Ezekiel’s new suit. 

^‘He won his spurs, as my aid that day,” he 
answered softly; one of his rare smiles lifting his 
mustache — ^^and Sheridan dismounted him, with 
the rest of us. He will lose enough, in losing his 
^young missus’ to-morrow, not to have at least the 
solace of a new uniform.” 

Very different were the feelings of those seated 
around that hospitable board now — almost as dif- 
ferent was the feast spread upon it — from those 
days of war. Plenty had not yet spread her fos- 
tering wings above the Valley; but, even in those 
early days the pressure of dire want had ceased to 
bear so heavily upon its dwellers. And, to those at 
Crag-Nest, comfort had returned exceptionally 
soon; and its fruits were never so sweet, as when 
the mistress of the manor shared them with those 
about her. 

And this was the last family supper, before the 
tangled threads of Fate would form, for four of 
them, into that gentle but binding knot, which only 
the hand of Him who blesses it may loosen for- 
ever. But the love that makes the dinner of herbs 
more savory than the stalled ox was present there; 


THE TORCH AT CRAG-NEST. 


211 


and the thought of partings, on the morrow — if 
they came at the moment — only mellowed the joy 
of present reunion and future hopes. 

But at last Mrs. Courtenay said gently: 

^To-morrow will be the day of your lives, my 
children. We must be astir early, to welcome dis- 
tant friends; and you should have your full ^beauty 
sleep.’ Young gentlemen” — she rose as she spoke 
— hold it as true Virginian hospitality, as it 
was Grecian, to ^Welcome the coming, speed the 
parting guest.’ ” 

A few minutes later Ezekiel held the bits of 
two horses, champing at the door. Two couples, 
a little apart on the broad piazza, spoke low fare- 
wells; and then sounded the clatter of hoofs, as the 
young soldiers galloped away through the moon- 
light to the neighboring farmhouse that furnished 
their temporary lodgment. 

The delicate intuition of the older pair held 
them in perfunctory discussion of some trifle of to- 
morrow’s decoration ; but, when the girls demurely 
came for their good-night kiss, the fervent lips of 
the old lady — the grim mustache of the veteran — 
alike pressed it upon each fair brow with the pure 
tenderness of a sacrament. 

Nowhere are the days of early autumn brighter 
or more crisp than in the Valley country of Vir- 
ginia; and this one was ideal in its temperature. 


212 


CRAG-NE8T. 


Only fleeciest clouds, here and there, flecked the 
broad, blue dome, toward which higher peaks 
seemed to stretch upward longingly through the 
transparent atmosphere. On the levels, lazy cat- 
tle lay ruminant, while from the coverts came the 
distance-softened whirr of wings, or soft sound of 
insects. 

“And Nature’s voices all accord, 

In song of brook, or pipe of bird, 

, To sing, or whisper, one sweet word 

And that is — Peace! ” 

Noon was well past, and already the sun — rap- 
idly dropping westward from his zenith — began 
to lengthen the mountain shadows, as memories of 
the past stretch out to days of lifers decline. 

The double wedding was over. In the delapi- 
dated, rustic church near by, a white-haired bishop, 
in whose veins also mingled the blood of the Cal- 
verts and the Cabbells, had spoken the solemn 
words that linked four souls ^^until death do us 
part.’’ And now his grace sat at the right hand 
of his hostess, as the family party finished the 
wedding dinner, in the memory-peopled dining- 
room. At opposite end of the board. General Cal- 
vert presided with a grand dignity, that struggled 
for supremacy with a joyous honhommie which no 
feast of all his Parisian experiences had called 
forth; his especial attentions showered upon the 


THE TORCH AT CBAG-NE8T. 218 

stately, high-bred Carolina dame at his right. Her 
clear-cut features and still elastic grace of figure 
might have denied maternity of the younger gen- 
eral, next to her, had not the recent vrar been 
fecund of promotions singularly rapid. Opposite 
sat the pale, delicate and reserved “portrait in 
little^^ of her mother, Euth Ravanel; but the gray 
strands gleaming through the glossy black of her 
hair — and the severe simplicity of her black silk 
gown — hinted at less kindly pressure upon her of 
Timers omnipresent hand. 

But never, of old, had “ladye fayre” craved 
more courtly cavalier than he who sat beside her; 
tall, soldierly and bland, in faultless morning-suit, 
innocent of hint that Pattison Buford had ridden 
down that Valley by the light of fiaming roofs — 
that the voice, now tuned to society’s pitch, had 
ever thundered “Charge!” upon the very men who 
tendered now fraternal welcome, with something 
beyond 

** The stern joy that warriors feel 
In foemen worthy of their steel! ” 


“That is the worst feature of a country so large 
as ours,” General Buford was saying. “The very 
magnificence of distances prevents our knowing 
how charming society may be just beyond us. In 
my own case now, only the accidental call” — he 
paused imperceptibly, delicately avoiding even al- 


214 


CBAG^NEST. 


lusion to duty — ^^business at Washington, made 
it possible for me to reach here and assist at one 
of the most grateful occasions of my life/^ 

am not sure,” Mrs. Courtenay answered 
suavely, ^^that there are not compensations in dis- 
tance — at times in our lives. But, in your case, 
sir, we are deeply debtors to business for its acci- 
dent; and I sincerely hope” — she gravely raised 
her glass with firm hand, as her eye met his with 
the pretty pride of hospitality — ^^that you may 
never again be so near Crag-Nest, without honor- 
ing its threshold by crossing it.” 

‘‘Permit me. General Buford, to join in my kins- 
woman^s wish,” the veteran cried, beaming as he 
raised his glass, “to our guest and — brother sol- 
dier!” 

Kavanel and Maury raised their glasses — ^the 
former’s as yet untouched ; and that uncompromis- 
ing daughter of the commonwealth that gave the 
Union her “First Kebel” — the mistress of Crag- 
Nest — bent her grand head in courteous sanction 
of the pledge of peace to “the enemy.” 

Then Ezekiel moved gravely round the board, 
placing fresh glasses, of thinnest make, at every 
place; pausing by his mistress, waiting her com- 
mand. As he did so, the moving of wheels grated 
on the gravel without. 

“Dearest and best pledge of all must be our 
last,” she said in softened tones. “And time warns 


TBE TORCH AT CRAG-NEST, 


216 


that it must be given now. Cousin Wirt, the 
health of the brides!” 

Ezekiel had vanished at a sign from her. Now 
he reappeared, bearing upon his salver a dim and 
dusty bottle; its neck resting stiffly upon a folded 
napkin. 

^^This Madeira, sent from our kinsman in En- 
gland,” the matron went on, forcing down a tremor 
in her voice, ^Vas set aside from my wedding day, 
to be drunk at the first marriage of the next gen- 
eration. Providence ordained that it should be 
reserved for these dear children; and I have to 
thank this faithful servant that it escaped the rav- 
ages of the — destroyer of most things, a half-cen- 
tury of time,” she finished, with one quick glance 
at the Federal soldier. ^^Ezekiel, be very care- 
ful.” 

^^No! Permit me, cousin!” General Calvert 
cried, rising with the elastic bound of a youth, but 
a courtly bow to Mrs. Ravanel. ^‘On an occasion 
like this, the Calvert wine should be served by a 
Calvert!” 

With the pride of a connoisseur, but the tender- 
ness of a father handling his first-born, the veteran 
took the cobwebbed bottle in his sinewy hand. 
Deftly he inserted the massive corkscrew — never 
changing the angle of the neck, but bringing out 
the cork without sound or tremor. Then he 
passed about the board with stately grace, filling 


216 


CRAQ-NEST. 


each glass, and standing at his own place with an- 
other profound bow to his lady, as he said: 
^^Cousin Virginia, our glasses are filled 
Mrs. Courtenay rose gravely, and with her rose 
each guest. A soft glow was on her cheeks; and 
her eyes, for once, were downcast and moist. Her 
lips trembled slightly, but the white, blue-veined 
hand steadily lifted the brimming glass, as she 
said: 

^‘My children and friends, our overfull hearts 
would mock the effort of our lips to speak their 
feelings. To the brides and grooms! May Our 
Father keep them to-day and forever 

In eloquent silence each glass was sipped; two 
of the toasted bravely radiant with joy — two of 
them tremulous, with eyes downcast and tear- 
suffused. But Buford — charmed with the won- 
derful bouquet of the rare old wine, and sipping it 
slowly — suddenly noted the pallor of the woman 
at his side, her face death-like, above the severe 
black dress. Over the white cheeks rolled two 
great tears, the long lashes could not restrain; 
and the bosom beneath its silken restraint seemed 
rent by a will-repressed sob. Tactful as brave, the 
Philadelphian glanced across the board, but not 
before Valerie had slipped her hand into the 
other’s and his quick ear had caught the almost 
soundless whisper: 

^‘Ruth! Sister!” 


TRE TORCH AT CRAO^NEST. 


217 


The carriage was at the door; the ample, old- 
time family coach, with age-dimmed cushions, 
worn paint and massive silver plates, all refreshed 
so far as EzekiePs loving veneration and stiffened 
muscles could compass that feat. Not the sleek 
and prancing steeds of former times drew it; but 
two veterans of the war, now translated from 
squadron or battery, to better bed and rack, wore 
rather loosely the massive harness of ^^better 
days.” 

But neither vehicle nor team occupied the 
thoughts of those now grouped upon the broad 
steps, engrossed in leave-taking; the bridal couples 
ready for departure for the near station. 

The reddening of coming sunset, already in the 
sky behind the Massanutten peaks, reflected on 
faces grave and pale — spite of brave efforts of the 
hearts behind them. The two young girls were 
close held in the venerable arms of her who had 
been friend, almoner — mother to them, all those 
long and trying years. The dark lashes and the 
blonde alike glistened with tears, that would 
come; only the eyes of the old lady dry, if filled 
with yearning tenderness. 

^^It is hard to send you away, my children, even 
to your own happiness,” Mrs. Courtenay said very 
gently, as her arms released the twain. ^^Yet it 
is but for a little while; and it is not parting, for 
you will always be present in these rooms. So, 


218 


CRAG-NEST. 


take the old woman^s blessing, and go now with 
those who have the better claim.” 

The tender but undimmed eyes turned yearn- 
ingly toward the hallway — with something in 
them like that last look, when they rode away, 
after Opequon. But the brave lady forced her 
lips to smile, as she added : 

^^You can not be truants long, you know; for 
remember, all your silver saved by Ezekiel, I still 
hold here.” 

^We will be back so soon. Aunt Virginia,” 
Valerie said softly — ^^and we will write so 
often !” 

^^And you must not feel lonely, auntie!” Wythe 
cried, an April smile shining through the mist 
in her eyes. 

will not be lonely,” Mrs. Courtenay answered 
with quiet voice, but lips that trembled slightly. 

am wholly happy, my dears, because my chil- 
dren are so. And Sarah Koutlege will remain 
with her old schoolmate, since my child has robbed 
her of hers. And this dear girl, too.” 

Her arm passed gently about the waist of the 
other stately woman, as it had done in those long- 
gone days of school-girl love, in the North; and 
the other slim hand firmly clasped that of the pale 
young widow, whose only answer was a peaceful 
smile. 

Hearty hand clasps exchanged by the men, and 


THE TORCH AT CRAG-NEST. 


219 


last adieux spoken, Mrs. Courtenay’s arms were 
about Rob Maury’s neck, as she cried: 

^‘My brave boy! I can well trust my baby with 
you! — and, Fraser, I need not say, what you 
know!” The stately head bent toward him and 
her lips pressed the broad forehead of the Carolin- 
ian — ^^God keep you all, my children!” 

She turned abruptly, pacing slowly toward the 
conservatory — alone ! 

The carriage rolled away, crunching the gravel 
merrily. After it dashed Ezekiel, with new-found 
youth and a recklessness scarce consonant with 
his grand garb. High above his head he waved a 
venerable shoe, hurling it after the carriage, as he 
cried : 

^^Sen’ dem luck, Esther!” 

And his helpmeet of years — her black cheeks 
shiny with tears, but her still white teeth glisten- 
ing with a broad grin — forgot her gorgeous ban- 
dana turban and the splendor of flowered Dolly 
Varden cretonne, as she skurried after him, sail- 
ing tiny but worn slippers through the air in heart- 
felt ^^ho7i voyage P’ 

All on the steps stood silent, watching the car- 
riage beyond the turn, as the negroes trotted back 
from the gate, hand-in-hand. No word was spoken 
until Mrs. Courtenay slowly turned and, with 
quiet step, rejoined them. There was suspicious 
moisture in her eyes now; but her voice was as 


220 


CRAG-NEST. 


calm as gentle, when, again passing her arm about 
her old schoolmate, she said: 

^^Sarah Eoutlege, we live our youth over again 
in our children’s happiness!” 

^^You shame the bravery of us old soldiers, 
kinswoman!” General Calvert cried bluntly; but 
tugging at his grim mustache nervously. ^^You 
have always been a true Virginian; but now, 
zounds! you are a Koman!” 

^^But happily not assisting at a sacrifice,” Gen- 
eral Buford added graciously. ^^Mrs. Courtenay, 
I can not find words to thank you for permitting 
me to share the joy of valued — friends!” 

^^The right word, Buford!” the Southern soldier 
cried, radiant again as he grasped the other’s hand. 
‘^You and I have seen the torch glow in the Valley. 
Thank God! We are spared to see the kindling of 
the torch of Peace — ^the torch of Hymen!” 


THE END. 


Belles, Beaux and Brains of the ’60s 

By T. C. DeLEON 

Pronounced by the press of the 
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Denslow’s Picture Books for Children 

PICTUHES OJ ACTION AND FUN XN BRILLIANT COLORS 


j^ck and the Bean Stalk, 
ABC Book, 

Humpty Dumpty, 

House That Ja<± Built, 
Three Bears, 

One Ring Circus, 

Old Mother Hubbard, 
Five Little Pigs, 

Little Red Riding Hood, 


Tom Thumb, 

2x>Of 

Mary Had a Little Lamb, 
Three Little Kittens, 

Animal Fair, 

Mother Goose ABC Book, 
Simple Simon, 

Barnyard Circus, 


Scarecrow and the Tin Maa 
Quarto size, 25c each. 

I'he above 18 titles are bound in three cloth-bound volumes, 6 tiwes 
in a volume, price $1.25 each. 


Denslow’s Night Before Christmas. Illustrated 50 

Billy Bounce. By. W. W. Denslow and Dudley A. Bragdon. 

Illustrated 1 50 

The Pearl and the Pumpkin. By W. W. Denslow and Paul 

West. Illustrated i 50 

Mister Sharptooth. By Joe Kerr. Illustrated i 25 


Dillingham’s Magic Picture Books 

Each illustration requires a page and a half. That is, a half page is bound over and 
next to a full-page illustration. The half page has two pictured faces. When it lies on 
one side one picture is given. When it is turnecl^uite a different picture, covering a page 
and a .:alf, is presented to the astonished and amused reader. 

Series No. i. Little Boy Blue. 

Series No. 2. There Was a Little GiiL 
Series No. 3. The Man in the Moon. 

Series No. 4, Tom, Tom the Piper’s Son. 

Series No. 5. Three Blind Mice. 

Series No. 6. Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-Eater. 

PrinUd in four colors. 

Quarto size, 25c each. 

Mother Truth’s Melodies. By Mrs. E. P. Miller. Illustrated. .$i 50 
Quldren’s Fairy Ge(^phy. By F. E. Winslow. Illustrated. . i 25 

4 


Albert Ross’ Novels. 


Thou Shalt Not $i oo 

His Private Character i oo 

Speaking of Ellen i oo 

Her Husband’s Friend i oo 

The Garston Bigamy i oo 

Thy Neighbor’s Wife i oo 

Young Miss Giddy i oo 

Out of Wedlock i oo 

Young Fawcett’s Mabd — i oo 

His Foster Sister i oo 

The Naked Truth i oo 

A Sugar Princess i oo 


In Stella’s Shadow fi oo 

Moulding a Maiden i oo 

Why I’m Single i oo 

An Original Sinner i oo 

Love at Seventy i oo 

A Black Adonis i oo 

Love Gone Astray i oo 

Their Marriage Bond i oo 

A New Sensation i oo 

That Gay Deceiver! i oo 

Stranger Than Fiction i oo 


Allan Pinkerton’s Works. 


Expressman and Detectives. $i oo 


Mollie Maguires, The i oo 

Somnambulist, The i oo 

Claude Melnotte i oo 

Criminal Reminiscences. . . . i oo 

Railroad Forger, The i oo 

Bank Robbers i oo 

A Double Life i oo 

Gypsies and Detectives i oo 


Spiritualists and Detectives 
Model Town and Detectives 
Strikers, Communists, etc. 

Mississippi Outlaws 

Bucholz and Detectives — 

Burglar’s Fate, The 

Professional Thieves 

Spy of the Rebellion, The. 
Thirty Years a Detective. . 


I oo 
I oo 
1 oo 
I oo 
I oo 
1 oo 
I oo 
I oo 


Fergus Hume’s Works. 


The M3rstery of a Hansom 

Cab $o 75 

The Sealed Message i 25 

The Sacred Herb i 25 

The Secret Passage 75 

The Yellow Holly 75 

The Red Window 7$ 


A Coin of Edward VII $0 75 

Claude Duval of ’95 75 

The Mandarin’s Fan 75 

The Pagan’s Cup 75 

The Rainbow Feather 75 

The Opal Serpent 75 

Lady Jim of Curzon St 75 


Ernest Renan’s and other Theological Works. 


The Life of Jesus $i 75 

Lives of the Apostles i 75 

ITie Life of St. Paul i 75 


The Bible in India. Jacx>]Uot a 00 


The Unknown Life of Christ 

— byNotovitch 50 

Inside the Church of Rome 

BytheNundKenmajs t f| 


Captain IVlayne Reid’s Works. 


The Scalp Hunters 


The White Chief 

,$i 00 

The Rifle Rangers 


The Tiger Hunter 

, I 00 

The War Trail 


The Hunter’s Feaat 

I 00 

The Wood Rangers 


wad Life 

I 00 

The Wild Huntress 


Osceola, the Seminole 

I 00 

The Maroon 

. I 00 

The Quadroon 

I 00 

The Headless Horseman. 

. . I 00 

The White Gauntlet 

I 00 

Rangers and Regulators. . 

. I 00 

Lost Leonore 

I 00 


Cook Books. 


Twentieth Century Cook Book. Mrs. Moritz and Miss Kahn. .$i 50 

The Washington Cook Book, Statesmen’s Dishes 

I 00 

Mrs. A. P. Hill’s New Southern Cook Book 

I 00 

On the Chafing Dish. By Harriet P. Bailey 

50 

The John Henry Books. 


By HUGH McHUGH 

(George V. Hobart). 


Go To It 

..$0 75 

Down the Line 

$0 75 

Beat It 

•• 75 

John Henry 

75 

Skiddoo 

•• 75 

Ikey’s Letters to His Father. 

75 

Get Next 

•• 75 

Jim Hickey 

75 

You Can Search Me 

• ' 75 

The Silly Syclopedia 

75 

I’m from Missouri 

•• 75 

Cinders 

75 

I Need the Money 

•• -75 

Eppy Grams by Dinkelspiel. 

75 

Out for the Coin 

•• 75 

Dinkelspiel’s Letters to 


Back to the Woods 

•• 75 

Looey 

75 

It’s Up To You 

•• 75 




Josh Biiiings. 

His Complete Writings, Biography with loo Illustrations $2 00 

Old Farmer’s Allminax. Cloth bound. Illustrated i 50 


Artemus Ward. 

Complete Comic Writings—Revised Edition, with 28 full pa^ 

Illustrations and Photogravure Frontispiece $2 00 

6 



















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One copy del. to Cat. Div. 




